ROBERT    BROWNING'S    POEMS. 


)    Strafford, 
Christmas-Eve    and    Easter-Day. 


ROBERT  BROWNING'S   COMPLETE  WORKS 

*      PUBLISHED    BY 

TICKNOR    AND    FIELDS. 


Poetical  Works.     2  vols.     $2.50. 
Men  and  Women.     1  vol.     $1.25. 
Sordello,  and  other  Poems.     1  vol. 


Sordello,  Strafford, 


Christmas-Eve  and  Easter-Day 


BY 


ROBERT    BROWNING 


BOSTON 

TICKNOR    AND     FIELDS 

1864 


UNIVERSITY   PRESS: 

WELCH,    BIGELOW,    AND   COMPANY, 

CAMBRIDGE. 


T7 

/•?•<&  4 


Dedication   to  the  New  English  Edition  of  Brownings 
Complete  Works. 


1  DEDICATE    THESE    VOLUMES 


MY    OLD    FRIEND    JOHN    FORSTER, 

GLAD   AND   GRATEFUL   THAT    HE   WHO, 

FROM    THE   FIRST   PUBLICATION    OF  THE   VARIOUS    POEMS    THEY   INCLUDE, 

HAS     BEEN     THEIR     KROMPTEST     AND     STAUNCHEST     HELPER, 

SHOULD   SEEM    EVEN   NEARER   TO    ME    NOW 

THAN   THIRTY   YEARS    AGO. 

R.  B. 

London,  April  21,  1863. 


To  Messrs.  TICKNOR  AND  FIELDS  :  — 

I  take  advantage  of  the  opportunity  of  the  publication  in 
the  United  States  of  my  Poems,  for  printing  which  you  have 
liberally  remunerated  me,  to  express  my  earnest  desire  that  the 
power  of  publishing  in  America  this  and  every  subsequent  work 
of  mine  may  rest  exclusively  with  your  house. 

I  am,  my  dear  Sirs,  with  high  esteem, 
Yours  faithfully, 

ROBERT  BROWNING. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 
SORDELLO        I 

STRAFFORD  .  •      .        .        .        .        .        .        .        .         217 

CHRISTMAS-EVE  AND  EASTER-DAY  .        .        .     .  • .        .    323 


SOEDELLO. 


1840. 


TO  J.  MILSAND,   OF  DIJON. 

DEAR  FRIEND  :  — 

Let  this  poem  be  introduced  by  your  name,  and  so  repay 
all  trouble  it  ever  cost  me.  I  wrote  it  twenty-five  years  ago 
for  only  a  few,  counting  even  in  these  on  somewhat  more 
care  about  its  subject  than  they  really  had.  My  own  faults 
of  expression  were  many ;  but  with  care  for  a  man  or  book 
such  would  be  surmounted,  and  without  it  what  avails  the 
faultlessness  of  either  ?  I  blame  nobody,  least  of  all  myself, 
who  did  my  best  then  and  since ;  for  I  lately  gave  time  and 
pains  to  turn  my  work  into  what  the  many  might  —  instead 
of  what  the  few  must  —  like  :  but  after  all,  I  imagined  an 
other  thing  at  first,  and  therefore  leave  as  I  find  it.  The 
historical  decoration  was  purposely  of  no  more  importance 
than  a  background  requires ;  and  my  stress  lay  on  the  inci 
dents  in  the  development  of  a  soul :  little  else  is  worth  study. 
I,  at  least,  always  thought  so,  —  you,  with  many  known  and 
unknown  to  me,  think  so,  —  others  may  one  day  think  so : 
and  whether  my  attempt  remain  for  them  or  not,  I  trust, 
though  away  and  past  it,  to  continue  ever  yours, 

KB. 

LONDON,  June  9,  1863. 


•  r  :•••;.  .. 


SORDELLO. 


BOOK    THE    FIRST. 

A    QUIXOTIC    ATTEMPT. 

WHO  will,  may  hear  Sordello's  story  told : 
His  story  ?     Who  believes  me  shall  behold 
The  man,  pursue  his  fortunes  to  the  end, 
Like  me  :  for  as  the  friendless-people's  friend 
Spied  from  his  hill-top  once,  despite  the  din 
And  dust  of  multitudes,  Pentapolin 
Named  o'  the  Naked  Arm,  I  single  out 
Sordello,  compassed  murkily  about 
With  ravage  of  six  long  sad  hundred  years. 
Only  believe  me.     Ye  believe  ? 

Appears 

Verona  .  . .  Never,  I  should  warn  you  first, 
Of  my  own  choice  had  this,  if  not  the  worst 
Yet  not  the  best  expedient,  served  to  tell 
A  story  I  could  body  forth  so  well 
By  making  speak,  myself  kept  out  of  view, 
The  very  man  as  he  was  wont  to  do, 


A 


4  WHY    THE    POET    HIMSELF    ADDRESSES 

And  leaving  you  to  say  the  rest  for  him. 

Since,  though  1  might  be  proud  to  see  the  dim 

Abysmal  Past  divide  its  hateful  surge, 

Letting  of  all  men  this  one  man  emerge 

Because  it  pleased  me,  yet,  that  moment  past, 

I  should  delight  in  watching  first  to  last 

His  progress  as  you  watch  it,  not  a  whit 

More  in  the  secret  than  yourselves  who  sit 

Fresh-chapleted  to  listen.     But  it  seems 

Your  setters-forth  of  unexampled  themes, 

Makers  of  quite  new  men,  producing  them, 

Would  best  chalk  broadly  on  each  vesture's  hem, 

The  wearer's  quality ;  or  take  their  stand, 

Motley  on  back  and  pointing-pole  in  hand, 

Beside  him.     So,  for  once  I  face  ye,  friends, 

Summoned  together  from  the  world's  four  ends, 

Dropped  down  from  heaven  or  cast  up  from  hell, 

To  hear  the  story  I  propose  to  tell. 

Confess  now,  poets  know  the  dragnet's  trick, 

Catching  the  dead,  if  fate  denies  the  quick, 

And  shaming  her ;  't  is  not  for  fate  to  choose 

Silence  or  song  because  she  can  refuse 

Real  eyes  to  glisten  more,  real  hearts  to  ache 

Less  oft,  real  brows  turn  smoother  for  our  sake : 

I  have  experienced  something  of  her  spite  ; 

But  there  's  a  realm  wherein  she  has  no  right 

And  I  have  many  lovers.     Say,  but  few 

Friends  fate  accords  me  ?     Here  they  are :  now  view 

The  host  I  muster  !     Many  a  lighted  face 


HIS    AUDIENCE,  —  FEW    LIVING,   MANY   DEAD.          I 

Foul  with  no  vestige  of  the  grave's  disgrace ; 

What  else  should  tempt  them  back  to  taste  our  air 

Except  to  see  how  their  successors  fare  ? 

My  audience  !  and  they  sit,  each  ghostly  man 

Striving  to  look  as  living  as  he  can, 

Brother  by  breathing  brother ;  thou  art  set, 

Clear- witted  critic,  by  ...  but  I  '11  not  fret 

A  wondrous  soul  of  them,  nor  move  death's  spleen 

Who  loves. not  to  unlock  them.     Friends !  I  mean 

The  living  in  good  earnest  —  ye  elect 

Chiefly  for  love  —  suppose  not  I  reject 

Judicious  praise,  who  contrary  shall  peep, 

Some  fit  occasion,  forth,  for  fear  ye  sleep, 

To  glean  your  bland  approvals.     Then,  appear, 

Verona !  stay  —  thou,  spirit,  come  not  near 

Now  —  not  this  time  desert  thy  cloudy  place 

To  scare  me,  thus  employed,  with  that  pure  face  ! 

I  need  not  fear  this  audience,  I  make  free 

With  them,  but  then  this  is  no  place  for  thee  ! 

The  thunder-phrase  of  the  Athenian,  grown 

Up  out  of  memories  of  Marathon, 

Would  echo  like  his  own  sword's  griding  screech 

Braying  a  Persian  shield,  —  the  silver  speech 

Of  Sidney's  self,  the  starry  paladin, 

Turn  intense  as  a  trumpet  sounding  in 

The  knights  to  tilt,  —  wert  thou  to  hear !     What  heart 

Have  I  to  play  my  puppets,  bear  my  part 

Before  these  worthies  ? 

Lo,  the  Past  is  hurled 


6      SHELLEY  DEPARTING,  VERONA  APPEARS. 

In  twain  :  up-thrust,  out-staggering  on  the  world, 

Subsiding  into  shape,  a  darkness  rears 

Its  outline,  kindles  at  the  core,  appears 

Verona.     'T  is  six  hundred  years  and  more 

Since  an  event.     The  Second  Friedrich  wore 

The  purple,  and  the  Third  Honorius  filled 

The  holy  chair.     That  autumn  eve  was  stilled : 

A  last  remains  of  sunset  dimly  burned 

O'er  the  far  forests,  like  a  torch-flame  turned 

By  the  wind  back  upon  its  bearer's  hand 

In  one  long  flare  of  crimson ;  as  a  brand, 

The  woods  beneath  lay  black.     A  single  eye 

From  all  Verona  cared  for  the  soft  sky. 

But,  gathering  in  its  ancient  market-place, 

Talked  group  with  restless  group ;  and  not  a  face 

But  wrath  made  livid,  for  among  them  were 

Death's  stanch  purveyors,  such  as  have  in  care 

To  feast  him.     Fear  had  long  since  taken  root 

In  every  breast,  and  now  these  crushed  its  fruit, 

The  ripe  hate,  like  a  wine  :  to  note  the  way 

It  worked  while  each  grew  drunk !  men  grave  and  gray 

Stood,  with  shut  eyelids,  rocking  to  and  fro, 

Letting  the  silent  luxury  trickle  slow 

About  the  hollows  where  a  heart  should  be ; 

But  the  young  gulped  with  a  delirious  glee 

Some  foretaste  of  their  first  debauch  in  blood 

At  the  fierce  news :  for,  be  it  understood, 

Envoys  apprised  Verona  that  her  prince 

Count  Richard  of  Saint  Boniface,  joined  since 


HOW   HER    GUELFS    ARE    DISCOMFITED. 

A  year  with  Azzo,  Este's  Lord,  to  thrust 
Taurello  Salinguerra,  prime  in  trust 
With  Ecelin  Romano,  from  his  seat 
Ferrara,  —  over  zealous  in  the  feat 
And  stumbling  on  a  peril  unaware, 
Was  captive,  trammelled  in  his  proper  snare, 
They  phrase  it,  taken  by  his  own  intrigue. 
Immediate  succor  from  the  Lombard  League 
Of  fifteen  cities  that  affect  the  Pope, 
For  Azzo,  therefore,  and  his  fellow-hope 
Of  the  Guelf  cause,  a  glory  overcast ! 
Men's  faces,  late  agape,  are  now  aghast. 
"  Prone  is  the  purple  pavis ;  Este  makes 
Mirth  for  the  devil  when  he  undertakes 
To  play  the  Ecelin ;  as  if  it  cost 
Merely  your  pushing-by  to  gain  a  post 
Like  his  !     The  patron  tells  ye,  once  for  all, 
There  be  sound  reasons  that  preferment  fall 
On  our  beloved  "... 

"  Duke  o'  the  Rood,  why  not  ?  " 
Shouted  an  Estian,  "  grudge  ye  such  a  lot  ? 
The  hill-cat  boasts  some  cunning  of  her  own, 
Some  stealthy  trick  to  better  beasts  unknown, 
That  quick  with  prey  enough  her  hunger  blunts, 
And  feeds  her  fat  while  gaunt  the  lion  hunts." 

"  Taurello,"  quoth  an  envoy,  "  as  in  wane 
Dwelt  at  Ferrara.     Like  an  osprey  fain 
To  fly  but  forced  the  earth  his  couch  to  make 
Far  inland,  till  his  friend  the  tempest  wake, 


8         WHY    THEY    ENTREAT    THE    LOMBARD    LEAGUE, 

Waits  he  the  Kaiser's  coming ;  and  as  yet 

That  fast  friend  sleeps,  and  he  too  sleeps :  but  let 

Only  the  billow  freshen,  and  he  snuffs 

The  aroused  hurricane  ere  it  enroughs 

The  sea  it  means  to  cross  because  of  him. 

Sinketh  the  breeze  ?     His  hope-sick  eye  grows  dim ; 

Creep  closer  on  the  creature  !     Every  day 

Strengthens  the  Pontiff;  Ecelin,  they  say, 

Dozes  now  at  Oliero,  with  dry  lips 

Telling  upon  his  perished  finger-tips 

How  many  ancestors  are  to  depose 

Ere  he  be  Satan's  Viceroy  when  the  doze 

Deposits  him  in  hell.     So,  Guelfs  rebuilt 

Their  houses  ;  not  a  drop  of  blood  was  spilt 

When  Cino  Bocchimpane  chanced  to  meet 

Buccio  Virtu  —  God's  wafer,  and  the  street 

Is  narrow  !     Tutti  Santi,  think,  a-swarm 

With  Ghibellins,  and  yet  he  took  no  harm ! 

This  could  not  last.     Off  Salinguerra  went 

To  Padua,  Podesta,  '  with  pure  intent/ 

Said  he,  '  my  presence,  judged  the  single  bar 

To  permanent  tranquillity,  may  jar 

No  longer '  —  so !  his  back  is  fairly  turned  ? 

The  pair  of  goodly  palaces  are  burned, 

The  gardens  ravaged,  and  our  Guelfs  laugh,  drunk 

A  week  with  joy.     The  next,  their  laughter  sunk 

In  sobs  of  blood,  for  they  found,  some  strange  way, 

Old  Salinguerra  back  again  —  I  say, 

Old  Salinguerra  in  the  town  once  more 


IN   THEIR    CHANGED    FORTUNE    AT    FERRARA : 

Uprooting,  overturning,  flame  before, 

Blood  fetlock-high  beneath  him.     Azzo  fled  ; 

Who  scaped  the  carnage  followed ;  then  the  dead 

Were  pushed  aside  from  Salinguerra's  throne, 

He  ruled  once  more  Ferrara,  all  alone. 

Till  Azzo,  stunned  awhile,  revived,  would  pounce 

Coupled  with  Boniface,  like  lynx  and  ounce, 

On  the  gorged  bird.     The  burghers  ground  their  teeth 

To  see  troop  after  troop  encamp  beneath 

I'  the  standing  corn  thick  o'er  the  scanty  patch 

It  took  so  many  patient  months  to  snatch 

Out  of  the  marsh  ;  while  just  within  their  walls 

Men  fed  on  men.     At  length  Taurello  calls 

A  parley :  '  let  the  Count  wind  up  the  war  ! ' 

Richard,  light-hearted  as  a  plunging-star, 

Agrees  to  enter  for  the  kindest  ends 

Ferrara,  flanked  with  fifty  chosen  friends, 

No  horse-boy  more,  for  fear  your  timid  sort 

Should  fly  Ferrara  at  the  bare  report. 

Quietly  through  the  town  they  rode,  jog-jog ; 

*  Ten,  twenty,  thirty,  —  curse  the  catalogue 

Of  burnt  Guelf  houses  !     Strange,  Taurello  shows 

Not  the  least  sign  of  life '  —  whereat  arose 

A  general  growl :  '  How  ?     With  his  victors  by  ? 

I  and  my  Veronese  ?     My  troops  and  I  ? 

Receive  us,  was  your  word  ? '     So  jogged  they  on, 

Nor  laughed  their  host  too  openly :  once  gone 

Into  the  trap  !  — • 

Six  hundred  years  ago  ! 
l* 


10  FOR   THE    TIMES    GROW    STORMY   AGAIN. 

Such  the  time's  aspect  and  peculiar  woe 

(Yourselves  may  spell  it  yet  in  chronicles, 

Albeit  the  worm,  our  busy  brother,  drills 

His  sprawling  path  through  letters  anciently 

Made  fine  and  large  to  suit  some  abbot's  eye) 

"When  the  new  Hohenstauffen  dropped  the  mask, 

Flung  John  of  Brienne's  favor  from  his  casque, 

Forswore  crusading,  had  no  mind  to  leave 

Saint  Peter's  proxy  leisure  to  retrieve 

Losses  to  Otho  and  to  Barbaross, 

Or  make  the  Alps  less  easy  to  recross ; 

And,  thus  confirming  Pope  Honorius'  fear, 

Was  excommunicate  that  very  year. 

"  The  triple-bearded  Teuton  come  to  life  ! " 

Groaned  the  Great  League ;  and,  arming  for  the  strife, 

"Wide  Lombardy,  on  tiptoe  to  begin, 

Took  up,  as  it  was  Guelf  or  Ghibellin, 

Its  cry ;  what  cry  ? 

"  The  Emperor  to  come  ! " 
His  crowd  of  feudatories,  all  and  some, 
That  leapt  down  with  a  crash  of  swords,  spears,  shields, 
One  fighter  on  his  fellow,  to  our  fields, 
Scattered  anon,  took  station  here  and  there, 
And  earned  it,  till  now,  with  little  carp.  — 
Cannot  but  cry  for  him  ;  how  else  rebut 
Us  longer  ?     Cliffs,  an  earthquake  suffered  jut 
In  the  mid-sea,  each  domineering  crest, 
Nothing  save  such  another  throe  can  wrest 
From  out  (conceive)  a  certain  chokeweed  grown 


THE    GHIBELLINS'    WISH  I   THE    GUELFS'    WISH.      11 

Since  o'er  the  waters,  twine  and  tangle  thrown 

Too  thick,  too  fast  accumulating  round, 

Too  sure  to  over-riot  and  confound 

Ere  long  each  brilliant  islet  with  itself 

Unless  a  second  shock  save  shoal  and  shelf, 

Whirling  the  sea-drift  wide  :  alas,  the  bruised 

And  sullen  wreck  !     Sunlight  to  be  diffused 

For  that !     Sunlight,  'neath  which,  a  scum  at  first, 

The  million  fibres  of  our  chokeweed  nurst 

Dispread  themselves,  mantling  the  troubled  main, 

And,  shattered  by  those  rocks,  took  hold  again, 

So  kindly  blazed  it  —  that  same  blaze  to  brood 

O'er  every  cluster  of  the  multitude 

Still  hazarding  new  clasps,  ties,  filaments,     <, 

An  emulous  exchange  of  pulses,  vents 

Of  nature  into  nature  ;  till  some  growth 

Unfancied  yet,  exuberantly  clothe 

A  surface  solid  now,  continuous,  one : 

"  The  Pope,  for  us  the  People,  who  begun 

The  People,  carries  on  the  People  thus, 

To  keep  that  Kaiser  off  and  dwell  with  us  ! " 

See  you  ? 

Or  say,  Two  Principles  that  live 
Each  fitly  by  its  Representative. 
"  Hill-cat "  —  who  called  him  so  ?  —  the  gracefullest 
Adventurer,  the  ambiguous  stranger-guest 
Of  Lombardy  (sleek  but  that  ruffling  fur, 
Those  talons  to  their  sheath  !)  whose  velvet  purr 
Soothes  jealous  neighbors  when  a  Saxon  scout 


12     HOW   ECELO'S    HOUSE    GREW   HEAD    OF   THOSE, 

—  Arpo  or  Yoland,  is  it  ?  —  one  without 

A  country  or  a  name,  presumes  to  couch 

Beside  their  noblest ;  until  men  avouch 

That,  of  all  Houses  in  the  Trevisan, 

Conrad  descries  no  fitter,  rear  or  van, 

Than  Ecelo !     They  laughed  as  they  enrolled 

That  name  at  Milan  on  the  page  of  gold, 

Godego's  lord,  —  Ramon,  Marostica, 

Cartiglion,  Bassano,  Loria, 

And  every  sheep-cote  on  the  Suabian's  fief! 

No  laughter  when  his  son,  "  the  Lombard  Chief" 

Forsooth,  as  Barbarossa's  path  was  bent 

To  Italy  along  the  Vale  of  Trent, 

Welcomed  him  at  Roncaglia  !     Sadness  now  — 

The  hamlets  nested  on  the  Tyrol's  brow, 

The  Asolan  and  Euganean  hills, 

The  Rhetian  and  the  Julian,  sadness  fills 

Them  all,  for  Ecelin  vouchsafes  to  stay 

Among  and  care  about  them ;  day  by  day 

Choosing  this  pinnacle,  the  other  spot, 

A  castle  building  to  defend  a  cot, 

A  cot  built  for  a  castle  to  defend, 

Nothing  but  castles,  castles,  nor  an  end 

To  boasts  how  mountain  ridge  may  join  with  ridge 

By  sunken  gallery  and  soaring  bridge. 

He  takes,  in  brief,  a  figure  that  beseems 

The  griesliest  nightmare  of  the  Church's  dreams, 

—  A  Signory  firm-rooted,  unestranged 

From  its  old  interests,  and  nowise  changed 


AS    AZZO    LORD    OF   ESTE    HEADS    THESE.  13 

By  its  new  neighborhood ;  perchance  the  vaunt 

Of  Otho,  "  my  own  Este  shall  supplant 

Your  Este,"  come  to  pass.     The  sire  led  in 

A  son  as  cruel ;  and  this  Ecelin 

Had  sons,  in  turn,  and  daughters  sly  and  tall, 

And  curling  and  compliant ;  but  for  all 

Romano  (so  they  styled  him)  throve,  that  neck 

Of  his  so  pinched  and  white,  that  hungry  cheek 

Proved  't  was  some  fiend,  not  him,  the  man's-flesh  went 

To  feed :  whereas  Romano's  instrument, 

Famous  Taurello  Salinguerra,  sole 

I'  the  world,  a  tree  whose  boughs  were  slipt  the  bole 

Successively,  why  should  not  he  shed  blood 

To  further  a  design  ?     Men  understood 

Living  was  pleasant  to  him  as  he  wore 

His  careless  surcoat,  glanced  some  missive  o'er, 

Propped  on  his  truncheon  in  the  public  way, 

While  his  lord  lifted  writhen  hands  to  pray, 

Lost  at  Oliero's  convent. 

Hill-cats,  face 

With  Azzo,  our  Guelf  Lion !  —  nor  disgrace 
A  worthiness  conspicuous  near  and  far 
(Atii  at  Rome  while  free  and  consular, 
Este  at  Padua  who  repulsed  the  Hun) 
By  trumpeting  the  Church's  princely  son 
Styled  Patron  of  Rovigo's  Polesine, 
Ancona's  March,  Ferrara's  .  .  .  ask,  in  fine, 
Our  chronicles,  commenced  when  some  old  monk 
Found  it  intolerable  to  be  sunk 


14         COUNT  RICHARD'S  PALACE  AT  VERONA. 

(Vexed  to  the  quick  by  his  revolting  cell) 
Quite  out  of  summer  while  alive  and  well : 
Ended  when  by  his  mat  the  Prior  stood, 
'Mid  busy  promptings  of  the  brotherhood, 
Striving  to  coax  from  his  decrepit  brains 
The  reason  Father  Porphyry  took  pains 
To  blot  those  ten  lines  out  which  used  to  stand 
First  on  their  charter  drawn  by  Hildebrand. 

The  same  night  wears.     Verona's  rule  of  yore 
Was  vested  in  a  certain  Twenty-four ; 
And  while  within  his  palace  these  debate 
Concerning  Richard  and  Ferrara's  fate, 
Glide  we  by  clapping  doors,  with  sudden  glare 
Of  cressets  vented  on  the  dark,  nor  care 
For  aught  that 's  seen  or  heard  until  we  shut 
The  smother  in,  the  lights,  all  noises  but 
The  carroch's  booming :  safe  at  last !     Why  strange 
Such  a  recess  should  lurk  behind  a  range 
Of  banquet-rooms  ?     Your  finger  —  thus  —  you  push 
A  spring,  and  the  wall  opens,  would  you  rush 
Upon  the  banqueters,  select  your  prey, 
Waiting,  the  slaughter-weapons  in  the  way 
Strewing  this  very  bench,  with  sharpened  ear 
A  preconcerted  signal  to  appear ; 
Or  if  you  simply  crouch  with  beating  heart, 
Bearing  in  some  voluptuous  pageant  part 
To  startle  them.     Nor  mutes  nor  masquers  now  ; 
Nor  any  .  .  .  does  that  one  man  sleep  whose  brow 
The  dying  lamp-flame  sinks  and  rises  o'er  ? 


OP  THE  COUPLE  FOUND  THEREIN,        15 

What  woman  stood  beside  him  ?  not  the  more 

Is  he  unfastened  from  the  earnest  eyes 

Because  that  arras  fell  between  ?     Her  wise 

And  lulling  words  are  yet  about  the  room, 

Her  presence  wholly  poured  upon  the  gloom 

Down  even  to  her  vesture's  creeping  stir. 

And  so  reclines  he,  saturate  with  her, 

Until  an  outcry  from  the  square  beneath 

Pierces  the  charm  :  he  springs  up,  glad  to  breathe 

Above  the  cunning  element,  and  shakes 

The  stupor  off  as  (look  you)  morning  breaks 

On  the  gay  dress,  and,  near  concealed  by  it, 

The  lean  frame  like  a  half-burnt  taper,  lit 

Erst  at  some  marriage-feast,  then  laid  away 

Till  the  Armenian  bridegroom's  dying-day, 

In  his  wool  wedding-robe.     For  he  —  for  he, 

Gate-vein  of  this  hearts'  blood  of  Lombardy, 

(If  I  should  falter  now)  —  for  he  is  Thine  ! 

Sordello,  thy  forerunner,  Florentine  ! 

A  herald-star  I  know  thou  didst  absorb 

Relentless  into  the  consummate  orb 

That  scared  it  from  its  right  to  roll  along 

A  sempiternal  path  with  dance  and  song 

Fulfilling  its  allotted  period, 

Serenest  of  the  progeny  of  God ! 

"Who  yet  resigns  it  not ;  His  darling  stoops 

With  no  quenched  lights,  desponds  with  no  blank  troops 

Of  disenfranchised  brilliances,  for,  blent 

Utterly  with  thee,  its  shy  element 


16       QNE    BELONGS    TO    DANTE;   HIS   BIRTHPLACE. 

Like  thine  upburneth  prosperous  and  clear. 

Still,  what  if  I  approach  the  august  sphere 

Named  now  with  only  one  name,  disentwine 

That  under-current  soft  and  argentine 

From  its  fierce  mate  in  the  majestic  mass 

Leavened  as  the  sea  whose  fire  was  mixt  with  glass 

In  John's  transcendent  vision,  —  launch  once  more 

That  lustre  ?     Dante,  pacer  of  the  shore 

Where  glutted  hell  disgorgeth  filthiest  gloom, 

Unbitten  by  its  whirring  sulphur-spume  — 

Or  whence  the  grieved  and  obscure  waters  slope 

Into  a  darkness  quieted  by  hope  ; 

Plucker  of  amaranths  grown  beneath  God's  eye 

In  gracious  twilights  where  His  chosen  lie, 

I  would  do  this  !  if  I  should  falter  now  ! 

In  Mantua-territory  half  is  slough 
Half  pine-tree  forest ;  maples,  scarlet-oaks 
Breed  o'er  the  river-beds  ;  even  Mincio  chokes 
With  sand  the  summer  through ;  but 't  is  morass 
In  winter  up  to  Mantua  walls.     There  was, 
Some  thirty  years  before  this  evening's  coil, 
One  spot  reclaimed  from  the  surrounding  spoil, 
Goito  ;  just  a  castle  built  amid 
A  few  low  mountains ;  firs  and  larches  hid 
Their  main  defiles,  and  rings  of  vineyard  bound 
The  rest.     Some  captured  creature  in  a  pound, 
Whose  artless  wonder  quite  precludes  distress, 
Secure  beside  in  its  own  loveliness, 
So  peered  with  airy  head,  below,  above, 


A   VAULT    INSIDE    THE    CASTLE    OF    GOITO,  17 

o 

The  castle  at  its  toils,  the  lapwings  love 

To  glean  among  at  grape-time.     Pass  within. 

A  maze  of  corridors  contrived  for  sin, 

Dusk  winding-stairs,  dim  galleries  got  past, 

You  gain  the  inmost  chambers,  gain  at  last 

A  maple-panelled  room :  that  haze  which  seems 

Floating  about  the  panel,  if  there  gleams 

A  sunbeam  over  it,  will  turn  to  gold 

And  in  ligmVgraven  characters  unfold  . 

The  Arab's  wisdom  everywhere  ;  what  shade 

Marred  them  a  momen^  those  slim  pillars  made, 

Cut  like  a  company  of  palms  to  prop 

The  roof,  each  kissing  top  entwined  with  top, 

Leaning  together ;  in  the  carver's  mind 

Some  knot  of  bacchanals,  flushed  cheek  combined 

With  straining  forehead,  shoulders  purpled,  hair 

Diffused  between,  who  in  a  goat-skin  bear 

A  vintage  ;  graceful  sister-palms  !     But  quick 

To  the  main  wonder,  now.     A  vault,  see  ;  thick 

Black  shade  about  the  ceiling,  though  fine  slits 

Across  the  buttress  suffer  light  by  fits 

Upon  a  marvel  in  the  midst.     Nay,  stoop  — 

A  dullish  gray-streaked  cumbrous  font,  a  group 

Round  it,  each  side  of  it,  where'er  one  sees, 

Upholds  it  —  shrinking  Caryatides 

Of  just-tinged  marble  like  Eve's  lilied  flesh 

Beneath  her  Maker's  finger  when  the  fresh 

First  pulse  of  life  shot  brightening  the  snow. 

The  font's  edge  burdens  every  shoulder,  so 

B 


18        AND    WHAT    SORDELLO    WOULD    SEE   THERE. 

They  muse  upon  the  ground,  eyelids  half  closed ; 

Some,  with  meek  arms  behind  their  backs  disposed, 

Some,  crossed  above  their  bosoms,  some,  to  veil 

Their  eyes,  some,  propping  chin  and  cheek  so  pale, 

Some,  hanging  slack  an  utter  helpless  length 

Dead  as  a  buried  vestal  whose  whole  strength 

Goes  when  the  grate  above  shuts  heavily. 

So  dwell  these  noiseless  girls,  patient  to  see, 

Like  priestesses  because  of  sin  impure 

Penanced  for  ever,  who  resigned  endure, 

Having  that  once  drunk  sweetness  to  the  aregs. 

And  every  eve,  Sordello's  visit  begs 

Pardon  for  them :  constant  as  eve  he  came 

To  sit  beside  each  in  her  turn,  the  same 

As  one  of  them,  a  certain  space  :  and  awe 

Made  a  great  indistinctness  till  he  saw 

Sunset  slant  cheerful  through  the  buttress-chinks, 

Gold  seven  times  globed ;  surely  our  maiden  shrinks 

And  a  smile  stirs  her  as  if  one  faint  grain 

Her  load  were  lightened,  one  shade  less  the  stain 

Obscured  her  forehead,  yet  one  more  bead  slipt 

From  off  the  rosary  whereby  the  crypt 

Keeps  count  of  the  contritions  of  its  charge  ? 

Then  with  a  step  more  light,  a  heart  more  large, 

He  may  depart,  leave  her  and  every  one 

To  linger  out  the  penance  in  mute  stone. 

Ah,  but  Sordello  ?     'T  is  the  tale  I  mean 

To  tell  you.     In  this  castle  may  be  seen, 

On  the  hill-tops,  or  underneath  the  vines, 


HIS   BOYHOOD    IN   THE    DOMAIN    OF    ECELIN.         19 

Or  eastward  by  the  mound  of  firs  and  pines 
That  shuts  out  Mantua,  still  in  loneliness, 
A  slender  boy  in  a  loose  page's  dress, 
Sordello  :  do  but  look  on  him  awhile 
Watching  ('t  is  autumn)  with  an  earnest  smile 
The  noisy  flock  of  thievish  birds  at  work 
Among  the  yellowing  vineyards  ;  see  him  lurk 
('T  is  winter  with  its  sullenest  of  storms) 
Beside  that  arras-length  of  broidered  forms, 
On  tiptoe,  lifting  in  both  hands  a  light 
Which  makes  yon  warrior's  visage  flutter  bright 

—  Ecelo,  dismal  father  of  the  brood, 
And  Ecelin,  close  to  the  girl  he  wooed, 
Auria,  and  their  Child,  with  all  his  wives 
From  Agnes  to  the  Tuscan  that  survives, 
Lady  of  the  castle,  Adelaide.     His  face 

—  Look,  now  he  turns  away  !     Yourselves  shall  trace 
(The  delicate  nostril  swerving  wide  and  fine, 

A  sharp  and  restless  lip,  so  well  combine 
With  that  calm  brow)  a  soul  fit  to  receive 
Delight  at  every  sense ;  you  can  believe 
Sordello  foremost  in  the  regal  class 
Nature  has  broadly  severed  from  her  mass 
Of  men,  and  framed  for  pleasure,  as  she  frames 
Some  happy  lands,  that  have  luxurious  names, 
For  loose  fertility ;  a  footfall  there 
Suffices  to  upturn  to  the  warm  air 
Half-germinating  spices ;  mere  decay 
Produces  richer  life ;  and  day  by  day 


20        HOW  A  POET'S  SOUL  COMES  INTO  PLAY. 

New  pollen  on  the  lily-petal  grows, 

And  still  more  labyrinthine  buds  the  rose. 

You  recognize  at  once  the  finer  dress 

Of  flesh  that  amply  lets  in  loveliness 

At  eye  and  ear,  while  round  the  rest  is  furled 

(As  though  she  would  not  trust  them  with  her  world) 

A  veil  that  shows  a  sky  not  near  so  blue, 

And  lets  but  half  the  sun  look  fervid  through. 

How  can  such  love  ?  —  like  souls  on  each  full-fraught 

Discovery  brooding,  blind  at  first  to  aught 

Beyond  its  beauty,  till  exceeding  love 

Becomes  an  aching  weight ;  and,  to  remove 

A  curse  that  haunts  such  natures  —  to  preclude 

Their  finding  out  themselves  can  work  no  good 

To  what  they  love  nor  make  it  very  blest 

By  their  endeavor,  —  they  are  fain  invest 

The  lifeless  thing  with  life  from  their  own  soul, 

Availing  it  to  purpose,  to  control, 

To  dwell  distinct  and  have  peculiar  joy 

And  separate  interests  that  may  employ 

That  beauty  fitly,  for  its  proper  sake. 

Nor  rest  they  here ;  fresh  births  of  beauty  wake 

Fresh  homage,  every  grade  of  love  is  past, 

With  every  mode  of  loveliness  :  then  cast 

Inferior  idols  off  their  borrowed  crown 

Before  a  coming  glory.     Up  and  down 

Runs  arrowy  fire,  while  earthly  forms  combine 

To  throb  the  secret  forth ;  a  touch  divine  — 

And  the  scaled  eyeball  owns  the  mystic  rod : 


WHAT   DENOTES    SUCH   A    SOUI/S    PROGRESS.        21 

Visibly  through  His  garden  walketh  God. 
So  fare  they.     Now  revert.     One  character 
Denotes  them  through  the  progress  and  the  stir,  — 
A  need  to  blend  with  each  external  charm, 
Bury  themselves,  the  whole  heart  wide  and  warm, 
In  something  not  themselves ;  they  would  belong 
To  what  they  worship  —  stronger  and  more  strong 
Thus  prodigally  fed  —  which  gathers  shape 
And  feature,  soon  imprisons  past  escape 
The  votary  framed  to  love  and  to  submit 
Nor  ask,  as  passionately  he  kneels  to  it, 
Whence  grew  the  idol's  empery.     So  runs 
A  legend :  light  had  birth  ere  moons  and  suns, 
Flowing  through  space  a  river  and  alone, 
Till  chaos  burst  and  blank  the  spheres  were  strown 
Hither  and  thither,  foundering  and  blind, 
When  into  each  of  them  rushed  light  —  to  find 
Itself  no  place,  foiled  of  its  radiant  chance. 
Let  such  forego  their  just  inheritance  ! 
For  there 's  a  class  that  eagerly  looks,  too, 
On  beauty,  but,  unlike  the  gentler  crew, 
Proclaims  each  new  revealment  born  a  twin 
With  a  distinctest  consciousness  within 
Referring  still  the  quality,  now  first 
Revealed,  to  their  own  soul  —  its  instinct  nursed 
In  silence,  now  remembered  better,  shown 
More  thoroughly,  but  not  the  less  their  own ; 
A  dream  come  true ;  the  special  exercise 
Of  any  special  function  that  implies 


22     HOW   POETS    CLASS    AT   LENGTH FOR   HONOR, 

The  being  fair,  or  good,  or  wise,  or  strong, 
Dormant  within  their  nature  all  along  — 
Whose  fault  ?     So,  homage,  other  souls  direct 
Without,  turns  inward ;  "  How  should  this  deject 
Thee,   soul?"   they   murmur;   "wherefore   strength 

quelled 

Because,  its  trivial  accidents  withheld, 
Organs  are  missed  that  clog  the  world,  inert, 
Wanting  a  will,  to  quicken  and  exert, 
Like  thine — existence  cannot  satiate, 
Cannot  surprise  ?  laugh  thou  at  envious  fate, 
Who,  from  earth's  simplest  combination  stampt 
With  individuality — uncrampt 
By  living  its  faint  elemental  life, 
Dost  soar  to  heaven's  complexest  essence,  rife 
With  grandeurs,  unaffronted  to  the  last, 
Equal  to  being  all ! " 

In  truth  ?     Thou  hast 

Life,  then  —  wilt  challenge  life  for  us :  our  race 
Is  vindicated  so,  obtains  its  place 
In  thy  ascent,  the  first  of  us ;  whom  we 
May  follow,  to  the  meanest,  finally, 
With  our  more  bounded  wills  ? 

Ah,  but  to  find 

A  certain  mood  enervate  such  a  mind, 
Counsel  it  slumber  in  the  solitude 
Thus  reached  nor,  stooping,  task  for  mankind's  good 
Its  nature  just  as  life  and  time  accord 
"  —  Too  narrow  an  arena  to  reward 


OR  SHAME WHICH  MAT  THE  GODS  AVERT   23 

Emprize  —  the  world's  occasion  worthless  since 

Not  absolutely  fitted  to  evince 

Its  mastery ! "     Or  if  yet  worse  befall, 

And  a  desire  possess  it  to  put  all 

That  nature  forth,  forcing  our  straitened  sphere 

Contain  it,  —  to  display  completely  here 

The  mastery  another  life  should  learn, 

Thrusting  in  time  eternity's  concern,  — 

So  that  Sordello . . .  Fool,  who  spied  the  mark 

Of  leprosy  upon  him,  violet-dark 

Already  as  he  loiters  ?     Born  just  now, 

With  the  new  century,  beside  the  glow 

And  efflorescence  out  of  barbarism ; 

Witness  a  Greek  or  two  from  the  abysm 

That  stray  through  Florence-town  with  studious  air, 

Calming  the  chisel  of  that  Pisan  pair : 

If  Nicolo  should  carve  a  Christus  yet ! 

While  at  Siena  is  Guidone  set, 

Forehead  on  hand ;  a  painful  birth  must  be 

Matured  ere  Saint  Eufemia's  sacristy 

Or  transept  gather  fruits  of  one  great  gaze 

At  the  moon :  look  you !     The  same  orange  haze,  — 

The  same  blue  stripe  round  that  —  and,  i'  the  midst, 

Thy  spectral  whiteness,  Mother-maid,  who  didst 

Pursue  the  dizzy  painter  ! 

Woe,  then,  worth 
Any  officious  babble  letting  forth 
The  leprosy  confirmed  and  ruinous 
To  spirit  lodged  in  a  contracted  house ! 


24  FROM    SORDELLO,   NOW   IN    CHILDHOOD. 

Go  back  to  the  beginning,  rather ;  blend 

It  gently  with  Sordello's  life  ;  the  end 

Is  piteous,  you  may  see,  but  much  between 

Pleasant  enough.     Meantime,  some  pyx  to  screen 

The  full-grown  pest,  some  lid  to  shut  upon 

The  goblin !     So  they  found  at  Babylon, 

(Colleagues,  mad  Lucius  and  sage  Antonine) 

Sacking  the  city,  by  Apollo's  shrine, 

In  rummaging  among  the  rarities, 

A  certain  coffer ;  he  who  made  the  prize 

Opened  it  greedily ;  and  out  there  curled 

Just  such  another  plague,  for  half  the  world 

Was  stung.     Crawl  in  then,  hag,  and  couch  asquat, 

Keeping  that  blotchy  bosom  thick  in  spot 

Until  your  time  is  ripe !     The  coffer-lid 

Is  fastened,  and  the  coffer  safely  hid 

Under  the  Loxian's  choicest  gifts  of  gold. 

Who  will  may  hear  Sordello's  story  told, 
And  how  he  never  could  remember  when 
He  dwelt  not  at  Goito.     Calmly,  then, 
About  this  secret  lodge  of  Adelaide's 
Glided  his  youth  away ;  beyond  the  glades 
On  the  fir-forest's  border,  and  the  rim 
Of  the  low  range  of  mountain,  was  for  him 
No  other  world  :  but  this  appeared  his  own 
To  wander  through  at  pleasure  and  alone. 
The  castle  too  seemed  empty ;  far  and  wide 
Might  he  disport ;  only  the  northern  side 
Lay  under  a  mysterious  interdict  — 


THE    DELIGHTS    OF   HIS    CHILDISH   FANCY,  25 

Slight,  just  enough  remembered  to  restrict 
His  roaming  to  the  corridors,  the  vault 
Where  those  font-bearers  expiate  their  fault, 
The  maple-chamber,  and  the  little  nooks 
And  nests,  and  breezy  parapet  that  looks 
Over  the  woods  to  Mantua :  there  he  strolled. 
Some  foreign  women-servants,  very  old, 
Tended  and  crept  about  him  —  all  his  clew 
To  the  world's  business  and  embroiled  ado 
Distant  a  dozen  hill-tops  at  the  most. 

And  first  a  simple  sense  of  life  engrossed 
SordeUo  in  his  drowsy  Paradise  ; 
The  day's  adventures  for  the  day  suffice  — 
Its  constant  tribute  of  perceptions  strange, 
With  sleep  and  stir  in  healthy  interchange, 
Suffice,  and  leave  him  for  the  next  at  ease 
Like  the  great  palmer-worm  that  strips  the  trees, 
Eats  the  life  out  of  every  luscious  plant, 
And,  when  September  finds  them  sere  or  scant, 
Puts  forth  two  wondrous  winglets,  alters  quite, 
And  hies  him  after  unforeseen  delight. 
So  fed  Sordello,  not  a  shard  disheathed ; 
As  ever,  round  each  new  discovery,  wreathed 
Luxuriantly  the  fancies  infantine 
His  admiration,  bent  on  making  fine 
Its  novel  friend  at  any  risk,  would  fling 
In  gay  profusion  forth :  a  ficklest  king, 
Confessed  those  minions !     Eager  to  dispense 
So  much  from  his  own  stock  of  thought  and  sense 


26   WHICH  COULD  BLOW  OUT  A  GREAT  BUBBLE, 

As  might  enable  each  to  stand  alone 

And  serve  him  for  a  fellow ;  with  his  own, 

Joining  the  qualities  that  just  before 

Had  graced  some  older  favorite.     Thus  they  wore 

A  fluctuating  halo,  yesterday 

Set  flicker  and  to-morrow  filched  away,  — 

Those  upland  objects  each  of  separate  name, 

Each  with  an  aspect  never  twice  the  same, 

Waxing  and  waning  as  the  new-born  host 

Of  fancies,  like  a  single  night's  hoar-frost, 

Gave  to  familiar  things  a  face  grotesque  ; 

Only,  preserving  through  the  mad  burlesque 

A  grave  regard.     Conceive  !  the  orpine-patch 

Blossoming  earliest  on  the  log-house-thatch 

The  day  those  archers  wound  along  the  vines  — 

Belated  to  the  Chief  that  left  their  lines 

To  climb  with  clinking  step  the  northern  stair 

Up  to  the  solitary  chambers  where 

Sordello  never  came.     Thus  thrall  reached  thrall ; 

He  o'er-festooning  every  interval, 

As  the  adventurous  spider,  making  light 

Of  distance,  shoots  her  threads  from  depth  to  height, 

From  barbican  to  battlement ;  so  flung 

Fantasies  forth  and  in  their  centre  swung 

Our  architect,  —  the  breezy  morning  fresh 

Above,  and  merry,  —  all  his  waving  mesh 

Laughing  with  lucid  dew-drops  rainbow-edged. 

This  world  of  ours  by  tacit  pact  is  pledged 

To  laying  such  a  spangled  fabric  low 


BEING    SECURE   AWHILE   FROM   INTRUSION.          27 

Whether  by  gradual  brush  or  gallant  blow. 

But  its  abundant  will  was  balked  here :  doubt 

Rose  tardily  in  one  so  fenced  about 

From  most  that  nurtures  judgment,  care  and  pain : 

Judgment,  that  dull  expedient  we  are  fain, 

Less  favored,  to  adopt  betimes  and  force 

Stead  us,  diverted  from  our  natural  course 

Of  joys,  —  contrive  some  yet  amid  the  dearth, 

Vary  and  render  them,  it  may  be,  worth 

Most  we  forego.     Suppose  Sordello  hence 

Selfish  enough,  without  a  moral  sense 

However  feeble  ;  what  informed  the  boy 

Others  desired  a  portion  in  his  joy  ? 

Or  say  a  ruthful  chance  broke  woof  and  warp  — • 

A  heron's  nest  beat  down  by  March  winds  sharp, 

A  fawn  breathless  beneath  the  precipice, 

A  bird  with  unsoiled  breast  and  filmless  eyes 

Warm  in  the  brake  —  could  these  undo  the  trance 

Lapping  Sordello  ?     Not  a  circumstance 

That  makes  for  you,  friend  Naddo  !     Eat  fern-seed 

And  peer  beside  us  and  report  indeed 

If   (your   word)    "  genius "    dawned    with    throes    and 

stings 

And  the  whole  fiery  catalogue,  while  springs 
Summers  and  winters  quietly  came  and  went. 

Time  put  at  length  that  period  to  content, 
By  right  the  world  should  have  imposed  :  bereft 
Of  its  good  offices,  Sordello,  left 
To  study  his  companions,  managed  rip 


28        BUT   IT    COMES  ;   AND    NEW-BORN   JUDGMENT 

Their  fringe  off,  learn  the  true  relationship, 

Core  with  its  crust,  their  natures  with  his  own : 

Amid  his  wild-wood  sights  he  lived  alone. 

As  if  the  poppy  felt  with  him !     Though  he 

Partook  the  poppy's  red  effrontery 

Till  Autumn  spoiled  their  fleering  quite  with  rain, 

And,  turbanless,  a  coarse  brown  rattling  crane 

Lay   bare.      That 's    gone !      Yet   why   renounce,    for 

that, 

His  disenchanted  tributaries  —  flat 
Perhaps,  but  scarce  so  utterly  forlorn, 
Their  simple  presence  might  not  well  be  borne 
Whose  parley  was  a  transport  once :  recall 
The  poppy's  gifts,  it  flaunts  you,  after  all, 
A  poppy :  why  distrust  the  evidence 
Of  each  soon  satisfied  and  healthy  sense  ? 
The  new-born  judgment  answered :  "  little  boots 
Beholding  other  creatures'  attributes 
And  having  none  ! "  or,  say  that  it  sufficed, 
"  Yet,  could  one  but  possess,  one's  self,"  (enticed 
Judgment)  "  some  special  office  ! "     Naught  beside 
Serves  you  ?    "  Well,  then,  be  somehow  justified 
For  this  ignoble  wish  to  circumscribe 
And  concentrate,  rather  than  swell,  the  tribe 
Of  actual  pleasures :  what,  now,  from  without 
Effects  it  ?  —  proves,  despite  a  lurking  doubt, 
Mere  sympathy  sufficient,  trouble  spared  ? 
That  tasting  joys  by  proxy  thus,  you  fared 
The  better  for  them  ?  "     Thus  much  craved  his  soul. 


DECIDES  THAT  HE  NEEDS  SYMPATHIZERS.    29 

Alas,  from  the  beginning  love  is  whole 

And  true  ;  if  sure  of  naught  beside,  most  sure 

Of  its  own  truth  at  least ;  nor  may  endure 

A  crowd  to  see  its  face,  that  cannot  know 

How  hot  the  pulses  throb  its  heart  below. 

"While  its  own  helplessness  and  utter  want 

Of  means  to  worthily  be  ministrant 

To  what  it  worships,  do  but  fan  the  more          / 

Its  flame,  exalt  the  idol  far  before 

Itself  as  it  would  have  it  ever  be. 

Souls  like  Sordello,  on  the  contrary, 

Coerced  and  put  to  shame,  retaining  will, 

Care  little,  take  mysterious  comfort  still, 

But  look  forth  tremblingly  to  ascertain 

If  others  judge  their  claims  not  urged  in  vain, 

And  say  for  them  their  stifled  thoughts  aloud. 

So,  they  must  ever  live  before  a  crowd : 

—  "  Vanity,"  Naddo  tells  you. 

Whence  contrive 

A  crowd,  now  ?     From  these  women  just  alive, 
That  archer-troop  ?     Forth  glided  —  not  alone 
Each  painted  warrior,  every  girl  of  stone, 
Nor  Adelaide  (bent  double  o'er  a  scroll, 
One  maiden  at  her  knees,  that  eve,  his  soul 
Shook  as  he  stumbled  through  the  arras'd  glooms 
On  them,  for,  'mid  quaint  robes  and  weird  perfumes, 
Started  the  meagre  Tuscan  up,  —  her  eyes, 
The  maiden's,  also,  bluer  with  surprise) 

—  But  the  entire  out-world  :  whatever,  scraps 


30       HE    THEREFORE    CREATES    SUCH    A    COMPANY, 

And  snatches,  song  and  story,  dreams  perhaps, 

Conceited  the  world's  offices,  and  he 

Had  hitherto  transferred  to  flower  or  tree, 

Nor  counted  a  befitting  heritage 

Each,  of  its  own  right,  singly  to  engage 

Some  man,  no  other,  —  such  now  dared  to  stand 

Alone.     Strength,  wisdom,  grace  on  every  hand 

Soon  disengaged  themselves,  and  he  discerned 

A  sort  of  human  life  .  at  least,  was  turned 

A  stream  of  lifelike  figures  through  his  brain. 

Lord,  liegeman,  valvassor  and  suzerain, 

Ere  he  could  choose,  surrounded  him ;  a  stuff 

To  work  his  pleasure  on ;  there,  sure  enough : 

But  as  for  gazing,  what  shall  fix  that  gaze  ? 

Are  they  to  simply  testify  the  ways 

He  who  convoked  them  sends  his  soul  along 

With  the  cloud's  thunder  or  a  dove's  brood-song? 

—  While  they  live  each  his  life,  boast  each  his  own 

Peculiar  dower  of  bliss,  stand  each  alone 

In  some  one  point  where  something  dearest  loved 

Is  easiest  gained  —  far  worthier  to  be  proved 

Than  aught  he  envies  in  the  forest-wights  ! 

No  simple  and  self-evident  delights, 

But  mixed  desires  of  unimagined  range, 

Contrasts  or  combinations,  new  and  strange, 

Irksome  perhaps,  yet  plainly  recognized 

By  this,  the  sudden  company  —  loves  prized 

By  those  who  are  to  prize  his  own  amount 

Of  loves.     Once  care  because  such  make  account, 


EACH    OF    WHICH,    LEADING   ITS    OWN    LIFE,        31 

Allow  a  foreign  recognition  stamp 

The  current  value,  and  his  crowd  shall  vamp 

Him  counterfeits  enough ;  and  so  their  print 

Be  on  the  piece,  't  is  gold,  attests  the  mint, 

And  "  good,"  pronounce  they  whom  his  new  appeal 

Is  made  to :  if  their  casual  print  conceal  — 

This  arbitrary  good  of  theirs  o'ergloss 

What  he  have  lived  without,  nor  felt  the  loss  — 

Qualities  strange,  ungainly,  wearisome, 

—  "What  matter  ?  so  must  speech  expand  the  dumb 

Part-sigh,  part-smile  with  which  Sordello,  late 

No  foolish  woodland-sights  could  satiate, 

Betakes  himself  to  study  hungrily 

Just  what  the  puppets  his  crude  fantasy 

Supposes  notablest,  popes,  kings,  priests,  knights, 

May  please  to  promulgate  for  appetites ; 

Accepting  all  their  artificial  joys 

Not  as  he  views  them,  but  as  he  employs 

Each  shape  to  estimate  the  other's  stock  - 

Of  attributes,  that  on  a  marshalled  flock 

Of  authorized  enjoyments  he  may  spend 

Himself,  be  men,  now,  as  he  used  to  blend 

"With  tree  and  flower  —  nay  more  entirely,  else 

'T  were  mockery :  for  instance,  "  how  excels 

My  life  that  chieftain's  ?  "  (who  apprised  the  youth 

Ecelin,  here,  becomes  this  month,  in  truth, 

Imperial  Vicar  ?)     "  Turns  he  in  his  tent 

Remissly  ?     Be  it  so  —  my  head  is  bent 

Deliciously  amid  my  girls  to  sleep. 


32  HAS    QUALITIES    niPOSSIBLE    TO    A   BOY, 

Wliat  if  he  stalks  the  Trentine-pass  ?     Yon  steep 
I  climbed  an  hour  ago  with  little  toil  — 
"We  are  alike  there.     But  can  I,  too,  foil 
The  Guelfs'  paid  stabber,  carelessly  afford 
Saint  Mark's  a  spectacle,  the  sleight  o'  the  sword 
Baffling  their  project  in  a  moment  ?  "     Here 
No  rescue !     Poppy  he  is  none,  but  peer 
To  Ecelin,  assuredly :  his  hand, 
Fashioned  no  otherwise,  should  wield  a  brand 
With  Ecelin's  success  —  try,  now !     He  soon 
Was  satisfied,  returned  as  to  the  moon 
From  earth ;  left  each  abortive  boy's-atternpt 
For  feats,  from  failure  happily  exempt, 
In  fancy  at  his  beck.     "  One  day  I  will 
Accomplish  it !     Are  they  not  older  still 
—  Not  grown  up  men  and  women  ?     'T  is  beside 
Only  a  dream ;  and  though  I  must  abide 
With  dreams  now,  I  may  find  a  thorough  vent 
For  all  myself,  acquire  an  instrument 
For  acting  what  these  people  act ;  my  soul 
Hunting  a  body  out,  may  gain  its  whole 
Desire  some  day !  "     How  else  express  chagrin 
And  resignation,  show  the  hope  steal  in 
With  which  he  let  sink  from  an  aching  wrist 
The  rough-hewn  ash  bow  ?  straight,  a  gold  shaft  hissed 
Into  the  Syrian  air,  struck  Malek  down 
Superbly !     "  Crosses  to  the  breach !     God's  Town 
Is   gained   Him   back ! "      Why   bend   rough   ash-bows 
more  ? 


SO,  ONLY  TO  BE  APPROPRIATED  IN  FANCY,    33 

Thus  lives  he :  if  not  careless  as  before, 
Comforted :  for  one  may  anticipate, 
Rehearse  the  Future,  be  prepared  when  fate 
Shall  have  prepared  in  turn  real  men  whose  names 
Startle,  real  places  of  enormous  fames, 
Este  abroad  and  Ecelin  at  home 
To  worship  him,  —  Mantua,  Verona,  Rome 
To  witness  it.     Who  grudges  time  so  spent  ? 
Rather  test  qualities  to  heart's  content  — 
Summon  them,  thrice  selected,  near  and  far  — 
Compress  the  starriest  into  one  star, 
And  grasp  the  whole  at  once ! 

The  pageant  thinned 

Accordingly ;  from  rank  to  rank,  like  wind 
His  spirit  passed  to  winnow  and  divide ; 
Back  fell  the  simpler  phantasms ;  every  side 
The  strong  clave  to  the  wise ;  with  either  classed 
The  beauteous ;  so,  till  two  or  three  amassed 
Mankind's  beseemingnesses,  and  reduced 
Themselves  eventually,  graces  loosed, 
And  lavished  strengths,  to  heighten  up  One  Shape 
Whose  potency  no  creature  should  escape. 
Can  it  be  Friedrich  of  the  bowmen's  talk  ? 
Surely  that  grape-juice,  bubbling  at  the  stalk, 
Is  some  gray  scorching  Saracenic  wine 
The  Kaiser  quaffs  with  the  Miramoline  — 
Those  swarthy  hazel-clusters,  seamed  and  chapped, 
Or  filberts  russet-sheathed  and  velvet -capped, 
Are  dates  plucked  from  the  bough  John  Brienne  sent, 
2*  c 


34   AND  PRACTISED  ON  TILL  THE  REAL  COME. 

To  keep  in  mind  his  sluggish  armament 

Of  Canaan.  —  Friedrich's,  all  the  pomp  and  fierce 

Demeanor  !     But  harsh  sounds  and  sights  transpierce 

So  rarely  the  serene  cloud  where  he  dwells, 

Whose  looks  enjoin,  whose  lightest  words  are  spells 

On  the  obdurate  !     That  right  arm  indeed 

Has  thunder  for  its  slave ;  but  where 's  the  need 

Of  thunder  if  the  stricken  multitude 

Hearkens,  arrested  in  its  angriest  mood, 

While  songs  go  up  exulting,  then  dispread, 

Dispart,  disperse,  lingering  overhead 

Like  an  escape  of  angels  ?     'T  is  the  tune, 

Nor  much  unlike  the  words  the  women  croon 

Smilingly,  colorless  and  faint-designed 

Each,  as  a  worn-out  queen's  face  some  remind 

Of  her  extreme  youth's  love-tales.     "  Eglamor 

Made  that ! "     Half  minstrel  and  half  emperor, 

What  but  ill  objects  vexed  him  ?     Such  he  slew. 

The  kinder  sort  were  easy  to  subdue 

By  those  ambrosial  glances,  dulcet  tones ; 

And  these  a  gracious  hand  advanced  to  thrones 

Beneath  him.     Wherefore  twist  and  torture  this, 

Striving  to  name  afresh  the  antique  bliss, 

Instead  of  saying,  neither  less  nor  more, 

He  had  discovered,  as  our  world  before, 

Apollo  ?     That  shall  be  the  name  ;  nor  bid 

Me  rag  by  rag  expose  how  patchwork  hid 

The  youth  —  what  thefts  of  every  clime  and  day 

Contributed  to  purfle  the  array 


HE  MEANS  TO  BE  PERFECT SAY,  APOLLO:   35 

He  climbed  with  (June  at  deep)  some  close  ravine 
'Mid  clatter  of  its  milliou  pebbles  sheen, 
Over  which,  singing  soft,  the  runnel  slipt 
Elate  with  rains :  into  whose  streamlet  dipt 
He  foot,  yet  trod,  you  thought,  with  unwet  sock  — 
Though  really  on  the  stubs  of  living  rock 
Ages  ago  it  crenneled ;  vines  for  roof, 
Lindens  for  wall ;  before  him,  aye  aloof, 
Flittered  in  the  cool  some  azure  damsel-fly, 
Born  of  the  simmering  quiet,  there  to  die. 
Emerging  whence,  Apollo  still,  he  spied 
Mighty  descents  of  forest ;  multiplied 
Tuft  on  tuft,  here,  the  frolic  myrtle-trees, 
There  gendered  the  grave  maple-stocks  at  ease. 
And,  proud  of  its  observer,  strait  the  wood 
Tried  old  surprises  on  him  ;  black  it  stood 
A  sudden  barrier  ('t  was  a  cloud  passed  o'er) 
So  dead  and  dense,  the  tiniest  brute  no  more    » 
Must  pass ;  yet  presently  (the  cloud  despatched) 
Each  clump,  behold,  was  glistering  detached 
A  shrub,  oak-boles  shrunk  into  ilex-stems  ! 
Yet  could  not  he  denounce  the  stratagems 
He  saw  thro',  till,  hours  thence,  aloft  would  hang 
"White  summer-lightnings ;  as  it  sank  and  sprang 
To  measure,  that  whole  palpitating  breast 
Of  heaven,  't  was  Apollo,  nature  prest 
At  eve  to  worship. 

Time  stole  :  by  degrees 
The  Pythons  perish  off;  his  votaries 


36   AND  APOLLO  MUST  ONE  DAY  FIND  DAPHNE. 

Sink  to  respectful  distance ;  songs  redeem 

Their  pains,  but  briefer ;  their  dismissals  seem 

Emphatic  ;  only  girls  are  very  slow 

To  disappear  —  his  Delians  !     Some  that  glow 

O'  the  instant,  more  with  earlier  loves  to  wrench 

Away,  reserves  to  quell,  disdains  to  quench ; 

Alike  in  one  material  circumstance  — 

All  soon  or  late  adore  Apollo !     Glance 

The  bevy  through,  divine  Apollo's  choice, 

His  Daphne  !     "  We  secure  Count  Richard's  voice 

In  Este's  counsels,  good  for  Este's  ends 

As  our  Taurello,"  say  his  faded  friends, 

"  By  granting  him  our  Palma  ! "  —  The  sole  child, 

They  mean,  of  Agnes  Este  who  beguiled 

Ecelin,  years  before  this  Adelaide 

Wedded  and  turned  him  wicked :  "  but  the  maid 

Rejects  his  suit,"  those  sleepy  women  boast. 

She,  scorning  all  beside,  deserves  the  most 

Sordello  :  so,  conspicuous  in  his  world 

Of  dreams  sat  Palma.     How  the  tresses  curled 

Into  a  sumptuous  swell  of  gold  and  wound 

About  her  like  a  glory  !  even  the  ground 

Was  bright  as  with  spilt  sunbeams ;  breathe  not,  breathe 

Not !  —  poised,  see,  one  leg  doubled  underneath 

Its  small  foot  buried  in  the  dimpling  snow, 

Rests,  but  the  other,  listlessly  below, 

O'er  the  couch-side  swings  feeling  for  cool  air, 

The  vein-streaks  swoln  a  richer  violet  where 

The  languid  blood  lies  heavily  ;  yet  calm 


BUT    WHEN    WILL    THIS    DREAM   TURN    TRUTH?      37 

On  her  slight  prop,  each  flat  and  outspread  palm, 
As  but  suspended  in  the  act  to  rise 
By  consciousness  of  beauty,  whence  her  eyes 
Turn  with  so  frank  a  triumph,  for  she  meets 
Apollo's  gaze  in  the  pine-glooms. 

Time  fleets : 

That 's  worst !     Because  the  pre-appointed  age 
Approaches.     Fate  is  tardy  with  the  stage 
And  crowd  she  promised.     Lean  he  grows  and  pale, 
Though  restlessly  at  rest.     Hardly  avail 
Fancies  to  soothe  him.     Time  steals,  yet  alone 
He  tarries  here  !     The  earnest  smile  is  gone. 
How  long  this  might  continue,  matters  not ; 

—  For  ever,  possibly ;  since  to  the  spot 
None  come :  our  lingering  Taurello  quits 
Mantua  at  last,  and  light  our  lady  flits 
Back  to  her  place  disburdened  of  a  care. 
Strange  —  to  be  constant  here  if  he  is  there ! 
Is  it  distrust  ?     O,  never  !  for  they  both 
Goad  Ecelin  alike  —  Romano's  growth 

So  daily  manifest,  that  Azzo  's  dumb 

And  Richard  wavers  :  let  but  Friedrich  come  ! 

—  Find  matter  for  the  minstrelsy's  report, 
Lured  from  the  Isle  and  its  young  Kaiser's  court 
To  sing  us  a  Messina  morning  up, 

And,  double  rillet  of  a  drinking-cup, 
Sparkle  along  to  ease  the  land  of  drouth, 
Northward  to  Provence  that,  and  thus  far  south 
The  other.     What  a  method  to  apprise 


38  FOR   THE   TIME   IS   RIPE,   AND    HE   READY. 

Neighbors  of  births,  espousals,  obsequies  ! 
Which  in  their  very  tongue  the  Troubadour 
Records  ;  and  his  performance  makes  a  tour, 
For  Trouveres  bear  the  miracle  about, 
Explain  its  cunning  to  the  vulgar  rout, 
Until  the  Formidable  House  is  famed 
Over  the  country  —  as  Taurello  aimed, 
Who  introduced,  although  the  rest  adopt, 
The  novelty.     Such  games,  her  absence  stopped, 
Begin  afresh  no\v;,  Adelaide,  recluse 
No  longer,  in  the  light  of  day  pursues 
Her  plans  at  Mantua :  whence  an  accident 
Which,  breaking  on  Bordello's  mixed  content, 
Opened,  like  any  flash  that  cures  the  blind, 
The  veritable  business  of  mankind. 


BOOK    THE    SECOND. 

THIS     BUBBLE     OP     FANCY, 

THE  woods  were  long  austere  with  snow :  at  last 
Pink  leaflets  budded  on  the  beech,  and  fast 
Larches,  scattered  through  pine-tree  solitudes, 
Brightened,  "  as  in  the  slumbrous  heart  o'  the  woods 
Our  buried  year,  a  witch,  grew  young  again 
To  placid  incantations,  and  that  stain 
About  were  from  her  cauldron,  green  smoke  blent 
With  those  black  pines  "  —  so  Eglamor  gave  vent 
To  a  chance  fancy.     Whence  a  just  rebuke 
From  his  companion  ;  brother  Naddo  shook 
The  solemnest  of  brows  ;  "  Beware,"  he  said, 
"  Of  setting  up  conceits  in  nature's  stead ! " 
Forth  wandered  our  Sordello.     Naught  so  sure 
As  that  to-day's  adventure  will  secure 
Palma,  the  visioned  lady  —  only  pass 
O'er  yon  damp  mound  and  its  exhausted  grass, 
Under  that  brake  where  sundawn  feeds  the  stalks 
Of  withered  fern  with  gold,  into  those  walks 
Of  pine,  and  take  her !     Buoyantly  he  went. 
Again  his  stooping  forehead  was  besprent 
With  dew-drops  from  the  skirting  ferns.     Then  wide 
Opened  the  great  morass,  shot  every  side 
With  flashing  water  through  and  through  ;  a-shine, 


40         WHEN    GREATEST   AND    BRIGHTEST,   BURSTS. 

Thick-steaming,  all  alive.     Whose  shape  divine 

Quivered  i'  the  farthest  rainbow-vapour,  glanced 

Athwart  the  flying  herons  ?     He  advanced, 

But  warily  ;  though  Mincio  leaped  no  more, 

Each  footfall  burst  up  in  the  marish-floor 

A  diamond  jet :  and  if  he  stopped  to  pick 

Rose-lichen,  or  molest  the  leeches  quick, 

And  circling  blood-worms,  minnow,  newt  or  loach, 

A  sudden  pond  would  silently  encroach 

This  way  and  that.     On  Palma  passed.     The  verge 

Of  a  new  wood  was  gained.     She  will  emerge 

Flushed,  now,  and  panting,  —  crowds  to  see,  —  will  own 

She  loves  him  —  Boniface  to  hear,  to  groan, 

To  leave  his  suit !     One  screen  of  pine-trees  still 

Opposes  ;  but  —  the  startling  spectacle  — 

Mantua,  this  time  !     Under  the  walls  —  a  crowd 

Indeed,  real  men  and  women,  gay  and  loud 

Round  a  pavilion.     How  he  stood  ! 

In  truth 

No  prophecy  had  come  to  pass :  his  youth 
In  its  prime  now  —  and  where  was  homage  poured 
Upon  Sordello?  —  born  to  be  adored, 
And  suddenly  discovered  weak,  scarce  made 
To  cope  with  any,  cast  into  the  shade 
By  this  and  this.     Yet  something  seemed  to  prick 
And  tingle  in  his  blood  ;  a  sleight  —  a  trick  — 
And  much  would  be  explained.     It  went  for  naught  — 
The  best  of  their  endowments  were  ill  bought 
With  his  identity  ;  nay,  the  conceit, 


AT   A    COURT    OF   LOVE,   A   MINSTREL    SINGS.         41 

That  this  day's  roving  led  to  Palma's  feet 

Was  not  so  vain  —  list !     The  word,  "  Palma ! "     Steal 

Aside,  and  die,  Bordello ;  this  is  real, 

And  this  —  abjure ! 

What  next  ?     The  curtains,  see, 
Dividing !     She  is  there ;  and  presently 
He  will  be  there  —  the  proper  You,  at  length  — 
In  your  own  cherished  dress  of  grace  and  strength : 
Most  like,  the  very  Boniface ! 

Not  so. 

It  was  a  showy  man  advanced ;  but  though 
A  glad  cry  welcomed  him,  then  every  sound 
Sank  and  the  crowd  disposed  themselves  around, 
—  "  This  is  not  he,"  Sordello  felt ;  while,  "  Place 
For  the  best  Troubadour  of  Boniface ! " 
Hollaed  the  Jongleurs,  —  "  Eglamor,  whose  lay 
Concludes  his  patron's  Court  of  Love  to-day ! " 
Obsequious  Naddo  strung  the  master's  lute 
With  the  new  lute-string,  "  Elys,"  named  to  suit 
The  song :  he  stealthily  at  watch,  the  while, 
Biting  his  lip  to  keep  down  a  great  smile 
Of  pride :  then  up  he  struck.     Sordello's  brain 
Swam ;  for  he  knew  a  sometime  deed  again ; 
So,  could  supply  each  foolish  gap  and  chasm 
The  minstrel  left  in  his  enthusiasm, 
Mistaking  its  true  version  —  was  the  tale 
Not  of  Apollo  ?     Only,  what  avail 
Luring  her  down,  that  Elys  an  he  pleased, 
If  the  man  dared  no  further  ?     Has  he  ceased  ? 


42        SORDELLO,    BEFORE   PALMA,    CONQUERS    HIM, 

And,  lo,  the  people's  frank  applause  half  done, 

Bordello  was  beside  him,  had  begun 

(Spite  of  indignant  twitchings  from  his  friend 

The  Trouvere)  the  true  lay  with  the  true  end, 

Taking  the  other's  names  and  time  and  place 

For  his.     On  flew  the  song,  a  giddy  race, 

After  the  flying  story ;  word  made  leap 

Out  word,  rhyme  —  rhyme  ;  the  lay  could  barely  keep 

Pace  with  the  action  visibly  rushing  past : 

Both  ended.     Back  fell  Naddo  more  aghast 

Than  some  Egyptian  from  the  harassed  bull 

That  wheeled  abrupt  and,  bellowing,  fronted  full 

His  plague,  who  spied  a  scarab  'neath  his  tongue, 

And  found  't  was  Apis'  flank  his  hasty  prong 

Insulted.     But  the  people  —  but  the  cries, 

The  crowding  round,  and  proffering  the  prize ! 

(For  he  had  gained  some  prize)  —  He  seemed  to  shrink 

Into  a  sleepy  cloud,  just  at  whose  brink 

One  sight  withheld  him.     There  sat  Adelaide, 

Silent ;  but  at  her  knees  the  very  maid 

Of  the  North  Chamber,  her  red  lips  as  rich, 

The  same  pure  fleecy  hair ;  one  weft  of  which, 

Golden  and  great,  quite  touched  his  cheek  as  o'er 

She  leant,  speaking  some  six  words  and  no  more. 

He  answered  something,  anything  ;  and  she 

Unbound  a  scarf  and  laid  it  heavily 

Upon  him,  her  neck's  warmth  and  all.     Again 

Moved  the  arrested  magic ;  in  his  brain 

Noises  grew,  and  a  light  that  turned  to  glare, 


RECEIVES    THE   PRIZE,   AND    RUMINATES.  43 

And  greater  glare,  until  the  intense  flare 

Engulfed  him,  shut  the  whole  scene  from  his  sense. 

And  when  he  woke  't  was  many  a  furlong  thence, 

At  home  ;  the  sun  shining  his  ruddy  wont ; 

The  customary  birds'-chirp  ;  but  his  front 

Was  crowned  —  was  crowned !    Her  scented  scarf  around 

His  neck  !    Whose  gorgeous  vesture  heaps  the  ground  ? 

A  prize  ?     He  turned,  and  peeringly  on  him 

Brooded  the  women-faces,  kind  and  dim, 

Ready  to  talk.  —  "  The  Jongleurs  in  a  troop 

Had  brought  him  back,  Naddo  and  Squarcialupe 

And  Tagliafer ;  how  strange  !  a  childhood  spent 

In  taking,  well  for  him,  so  brave  a  bent ! 

Since  Eglamor,"  they  heard,  "  was  dead  with  spite, 

And  Palrna  chose  him  for  her  minstrel." 

Light 

Sordello  rose  —  to  think,  now ;  hitherto 
He  had  perceived.     Sure,  a  discovery  grew 
Out  of  it  all !     Best  live  from  first  to  last 
The  transport  o'er  again.     A  week  he  passed, 
Sucking  the  sweet  out  of  each  circumstance, 
From  the  bard's  outbreak  to  the  luscious  trance 

|Bounding  his  own  achievement.     Strange  !     A  man 

!  Recounted  an  adventure,  but  began 

j  Imperfectly ;  his  own  task  was  to  fill 

!  The  framework  up,  sing  well  what  he  sang  ill, 
Supply  the  necessary  points,  set  loose 
As  many  incidents  of  little  use 
—  More  imbecile  the  other,  not  to  see 


44      HOW   HAD    HE   BEEN    SUPERIOR    TO    EGLAMOR? 

Their  relative  importance  clear  as  he  ! 

But,  for  a  special  pleasure  in  the  act 

Of  singing  —  had  he  ever  turned,  in  fact, 

From  Elys,  to  sing  Elys  ?  —  from  each  fit 

Of  rapture,  to  contrive  a  song  of  it  ? 

True,  this  snatch  or  the  other  seemed  to  wind 

Into  a  treasure,  helped  himself  to  find 

A  beauty  in  himself;  for,  see,  he  soared 

By  means  of  that  mere  snatch  to  many  a  hoard 

Of  fancies ;  as  some  falling  cone  bears  soft 

The  eye,  along  the  fir-tree-spire,  aloft 

To  a  dove's  nest.     Then,  how  divine  the  cause 

Such  a  performance  might  exact  applause 

From  men,  if  they  had  fancies  too  ?     Could  fate 

Decree  they  found  a  beauty  separate 

In  the  poor  snatch  itself?  —  "  Take  Elys,  there, 

— '  Her  head  that 's  sharp  and  perfect  like  a  pear, 

So  close  and  smooth  are  laid  the  few  fine  locks 

Colored  like  honey  oozed  from  topmost  rocks 

Sun-blanched  the  livelong  summer '  —  if  they  heard 

Just  those  two  rhymes,  assented  at  my  word, 

And  loved  them  as  I  love  them  who  have  run 

These  fingers  through  those  pale  locks,  let  the  sun 

Into  the  white  cool  skin  —  who  first  could  clutch, 

Then  praise  —  I  needs  must  be  a  God  to  such. 

Or  if  some  few,  above  themselves,  and  yet 

Beneath  me,  like  their  Eglamor,  have  set 

An  impress  on  our  gift  ?     So,  men  believe 

And  worship  what  they  know  not,  nor  receive 


THIS    IS    ANSWERED    BY   EGLAMOR   HIMSELF :        45 

Delight  from.     Have  they  fancies  —  slow,  perchance, 
Not  at  their  beck,  which  indistinctly  glance 
Until,  by  song,  each  floating  part  be  linked 
To  each,  and  all  grow  palpable,  distinct  ?  " 
He  pondered  this. 

Meanwhile,  sounds  low  and  drear 
Stole  on  him,  and  a  noise  of  footsteps,  near 
And  nearer,  and  the  underwood  was  pushed 
Aside,  the  larches  grazed,  the  dead  leaves  crushed 
At  the  approach  of  men.     The  wind  seemed  laid ; 
Only,  the  trees  shrunk  slightly  and  a  shade 
Came  o'er  the  sky  although  't  was  midday  yet : 
You  saw  each  half-shut  downcast  floweret 
Flutter  —  "a  Roman  bride,  when  they 'd  dispart 
Her  unbound  tresses  with  the  Sabine  dart, 
Holding  that  famous  rape  in  memory  still, 
Felt  creep  into  her  curls  the  iron  chill, 
And  looked  thus,"  Eglamor  would  say  —  indeed 
JT  is  Eglamor,  no  other,  these  precede 
Home  hither  in  the  woods.     "  'T  were  surely  sweet 
Far  from  the  scene  of  one's  forlorn  defeat 
To  sleep  ! "  judged  Naddo,  who  in  person  led 
Jongleurs  and  Trouveres,  chanting  at  their  head, 
A  scanty  company ;  for,  sooth  to  say, 
Our  beaten  Troubadour  had  seen  his  day. 
Old  worshippers  were  something  shamed,  old  friends 
Nigh  weary ;  still  the  death  proposed  amends. 
"  Let  us  but  get  them  safely  through  my  song 
And  home  again  ! "  quoth  Naddo. 


46        ONE    WHO    BELONGED    TO    WHAT   HE    LOVED, 

All  along, 

This  man  (they  rest  the  bier  upon  the  sand) 
—  This  calm  corpse  with  the  loose  flowers  in  his  hand, 
Eglamor,  lived  Sordello's  opposite. 
For  him  indeed  was  Naddo's  notion  right, 
And  verse  a  temple-worship  vague  and  vast, 
A  ceremony  that  withdrew  the  last 
Opposing  bolt,  looped  back  the  lingering  veil 
Which  hid  the  holy  place  —  should  one  so  frail 
Stand  there  without  such  effort  ?  or  repine 
That  much  was  blank,  uncertain  at  the  shrine 
He  knelt  before,  till,  soothed  by  many  a  rite, 
The  Power  responded,  and  some  sound  or  sight 
Grew  up,  his  own  forever,  to  be  fixed 
In  rhyme,  the  beautiful,  forever  !  mixed 
With  his  own  life,  unloosed  when  he  should  please, 
Having  it  safe  at  hand,  ready  to  ease 
All  pain,  remove  all  trouble ;  every  time 
He  loosed  that  fancy  from  its  bonds  of  rhyme, 
Like  Perseus  when  he  loosed  his  naked  love, 
Faltering ;  so  distinct  and  far  above 
Himself,  these  fancies !     He,  no  genius  rare, 
Transfiguring  in  fire  or  wave  or  air 
At  will,  but  a  poor  gnome  that,  cloistered  up 
In  some  rock-chamber  with  his  agate  cup, 
His  topaz  rod,  his  seed-pearl,  in  these  few 
And  their  arrangement  finds  enough  to  do 
For  his  best  art.     Then,  how  he  loved  that  art ! 
The  calling  marking  him  a  man  apart 


LOVING   HIS    ART   AND    REWARDED    BY   IT,  47 

From  men  —  one  not  to  care,  take  counsel  for 

Cold  hearts,  comfortless  faces  —  (Eglamor 

Was  neediest  of  his  tribe)  —  since  verse,  the  gift, 

"Was  his,  and  men,  the  whole  of  them,  must  shift 

Without  it,  e'en  content  themselves  with  wealth 

And  pomp  and  power,  snatching  a  life  by  stealth. 

So,  Eglamor  was  not  without  his  pride  ! 

The  sorriest  bat  which  cowers  through  noontide 

While  other  birds  are  jocund,  has  one  time 

When  moon  and  stars  are  blinded,  and  the  prime 

Of  earth  is  his  to  claim,  nor  find  a  peer ; 

And  Eglamor  was  noblest  poet  here 

He  knew  that,  'mid  the  April  woods,  he  cast 

Conceits  upon  in  plenty  as  he  past, 

That  Naddo  might  suppose  him  not  to  think 

Entirely  on  the  coming  triumph :  wink 

At  the  one  weakness  !     'T  was  a  fervid  child, 

That  song  of  his  —  no  brother  of  the  guild 

Had  e'er  conceived  its  like.     The  rest  you  know, 

The  exaltation  and  the  overthrow : 

Our  poet  lost  his  purpose,  lost  his  rank, 

His  life  —  to  that  it  came.     Yet  envy  sank 

Within  him,  as  he  heard  Sordello  out, 

And,  for  the  first  time,  shouted  —  tried  to  shout 

Like  others,  not  from  any  zeal  to  show 

Pleasure  that  way :  the  common  sort  did  so, 

And  what  was  Eglamor  ?  who,  bending  down 

The  same,  placed  his  beneath  Sordello's  crown, 

Printed  a  kiss  on  his  successor's  hand, 


48        ENDING   WITH    WHAT    HAD    POSSESSED    HIM. 

Left  one  great  tear  on  it,  then  joined  liis  band 

—  In  time ;  for  some  were  watching  at  the  door 

"Who  knows  what  envy  may  effect  ?     "  Give  o'er, 

Nor  charm  his  lips,  nor  craze  him ! "  (here  one  spied 

And  disengaged  the  withered  crown)  —  "  Beside 

His  crown !     How  prompt  and  clear  those  verses  rung 

To  answer  yours !  nay,  sing  them ! "     And  he  sung 

Them  calmly.     Home  he  went ;  friends  used  to  wait 

His  coming,  zealous  to  congratulate, 

But,  to  a  man,  so  quickly  runs  report, 

Could  do  no  less  than  leave  him,  and  escort 

His  rival.     That  eve,  then,  bred  many  a  thought : 

What  must  his  future  life  be  ?  was  he  brought 

So  low,  who  was  so  lofty  this  Spring  morn  ? 

At  length  he  said,  "  Best  sleep  now  with  my  scorn, 

And  by  to-morrow  I  devise  some  plain 

Expedient ! "     So,  he  slept,  nor  woke  again. 

They  found  as  much,  those  friends,  when  they  returned 

O'erflowing  with  the  marvels  they  had  learned 

About  Sordello's  paradise,  his  roves 

Among  the  hills  and  valleys,  plains  and  groves, 

Wherein,  no  doubt,  this  lay  was  roughly  cast, 

Polished  by  slow  degrees,  completed  last 

To  Eglamor's  discomfiture  and  death. 

Such  form  the  chanters  now,  and,  out  of  breath, 
They  lay  the  beaten  man  in  his  abode, 
Naddo  reciting  that  same  luckless  ode, 
Doleful  to  hear.     Sordello  could  explore 
By  means  of  it,  however,  one  step  more 


EGLAMOB   DONE    WITH,    SORDELLO    BEGINS.         49 

In  joy ;  and,  mastering  the  round  at  length, 
Learnt  how  to  live  in  weakness  as  in  strength, 
When  from  his  covert  forth  he  stood,  addressed 
Eglamor,  bade  the  tender  ferns  invest, 
Primaeval  pines  o'ercanopy  his  couch, 
And,  most  of  all,  his  fame  —  (shall  I  avouch 
Eglamor  heard  it,  dead  though  he  might  look, 
And  laughed  as  from  his  brow  Sordello  took 
The  crown,  and  laid  it  on  his  breast,  and  said 
It  was  a  crown,  now,  fit  for  poet's  head  ?) 

—  Continue.     Nor  the  prayer  quite  fruitless  fell. 
A  plant  they  have  yielding  a  three-leaved  bell 
"Which  whitens  at  the  heart  ere  noon,  and  ails 
Till  evening ;  evening  gives  it  to  her  gales 

To  clear  away  with  such  forgotten  things 
As  are  an  eyesore  to  the  morn :  this  brings 
Him  to  their  mind,  and  bears  his  very  name. 

So  much  for  Eglamor.     My;  own  month  came ; 
'T  was  a  sunrise  of  blossoming  and  May. 
Beneath  a  flowering  laurel  thicket  lay 
Sordello ;  each  new  sprinkle  of  white  stars 
That  smell  fainter  of  wine  than  Massic  jars 
Dug  up  at  Baise,  when  the  south  wind  shed 
The  ripest,  made  him  happier ;  filleted 
And  robed  the  same,  only  a  lute  beside 
Lay  on  the  turf.     Before  him  far  and  wide 
The  country  stretched :  Goito  slept  behind 

—  The  castle  and  its  covert,  which  confined 
Him  with  his  hopes  and  fears  ;  so  fain  of  old 

3  D 


50      WHO    HE   REALLY   WAS,   AND    WHY   AT    GOITO. 

To  leave  the  story  of  his  birth  untold. 

At  intervals,  'spite  the  fantastic  glow 

Of  his  Apollo-life,  a  certain  low 

And  wretched  whisper,  winding  through  the  bliss, 

Admonished,  no  such  fortune  could  be  his, 

All  was  quite  false  and  sure  to  fade  one  day : 

The  closelier  drew  he  round  him  his  array 

Of  brilliance  to  expel  the  truth.     But  when 

A  reason  for  his  difference  from  men 

Surprised  him  at  the  grave,  he  took  no  rest 

While  aught  of  that  old  life,  superbly  drest 

Down  to  its  meanest  incident,  remained 

A  mystery  —  alas,  they  soon  explained 

Away  Apollo !  and  the  tale  amounts 

To  this  :  when  at  Vicenza  both  her  Counts 

Banished  the  Vivaresi  kith  and  kin, 

Those  Maltraversi  hung  on  Ecelin, 

Reviled  him  as  he  followed ;  he  for  spite 

Must  fire  their  quarter,  though  that  self-same  night 

Among  the  flames  young  Ecelin  was  born 

Of  Adelaide,  there  too,  and  barely  torn 

From  the  roused  populace  hard  on  the  rear, 

By  a  poor  archer  when  his  chieftain's  fear 

Grew  high ;  into  the  thick  Elcorte  leapt, 

Saved  her,  and  died ;  no  creature  left  except 

His  child  to  thank.     And  when  the  full  escape 

Was  known  —  how  men  impaled  from  chine  to  nape 

Unlucky  Prata,  all  to  pieces  spurned 

Bishop  Pistore's  concubines,  and  burned 


HE,    SO    LITTLE,    WOULD    FAIN    BE    SO    MUCH  :       51 

Taurello's  entire  household,  flesh  and  fell, 
Missing  the  sweeter  prey  —  such  courage  well 
Might  claim  reward.     The  orphan,  ever  since, 
Sordello,  had  been  nurtured  by  his  prince 
Within  a  blind  retreat  where  Adelaide  — 
(For,  once  this  notable  discovery  made, 
The  Past  at  every  point  was  understood) 

—  Might  harbor  easily  when  times  were  rude, 
When  Azzo  schemed  for  Palma,  to  retrieve 
That  pledge  of  Agnes  Este  —  loath  to  leave 
Mantua  unguarded  with  a  vigilant  eye, 
Taurello  biding  there  ambiguously  — 

He  who  could  have  no  motive  now  to  moil 
For  his  own  fortunes  since  their  utter  spoil  — 
As  it  were  worth  while  yet  (went  the  report) 
To  disengage  himself  from  her.     In  short, 
Apollo  vanished ;  a  mean  youth,  just  named      / 
His  lady's  minstrel,  was  to  be  proclaimed 

—  How  shall  I  phrase  it  ?  —  Monarch  of  the  World ! 
For,  on  the  morning  that  array  was  furled 
Forever,  and  in  place  of  one  a  slave 

To  longings,  wild  indeed,  but  longings  save 

In  dreams  as  wild,  suppressed  —  one  daringjool 

Assume  the  mastery  such  dreams  allot, 

Until  a  magical  equipment,  strength 

Grace,  wisdom,  decked  him  too,  —  he  chose  at  length, 

Content  with  unproved  wits  and  failing  frame, 

In  virtue  of  his  simple  will,  to  claim 

That  mastery,  no  less — to  do  his  best 


52  LEAVES  THE  DREAM  HE  MAY  BE  SOMETHING, 

With  means  so  limited,  and  let  the  rest 
Go  by,  —  the  seal  was  set :  never  again 
Bordello  could  in  his  own  sight  remain 
One  of  the  many,  one  with  hopes  and  cares 
And  interests  nowise  distinct  from  theirs, 
\  Only  peculiar  in  a  thriveless  store 
Of  fancies,  which  were  fancies  and  no  more ; 
Never  again  for  him  and  for  the  crowd 
A  common  law  was  challenged  and  allowed 
If  calmly  reasoned  of,  howe'er  denied 
By  a  mad  impulse- nothing  justified 
Short  of  Apollo's  presence.     The  divorce 
Is  clear :  why  needs  Bordello  square  his  course 
By  any  known  example  ?     Men  no  more 
Compete  with  him  than  tree  and  flower  before ; 
Himself,  inactive,  yet  is  greater  far 
Than  such  as  act,  each  stooping  to  his  star, 
Acquiring  thence  his  function ;  he  has  gained 
The  same  result  with  meaner  mortals  trained 
To  strength  or  beauty,  moulded  to  express 
Each  the  idea  that  rules  him ;  since  no  less 
He  comprehends  that  function,  but  can  still 
Embrace  the  others,  take  of  might  his  fill 
With  Richard  as  of  grace  with  Palma,  mix 
Their  qualitj^s,  or  for  a  moment  fix 
On  one  ;  abiding  free  meantime,  uncramped 
By  any  partial  organ,  never  stamped 
Strong,  and  to  strength  turning  all  energies  — 
Wise,  and  restricted  to  becoming  wise  — 


FOR  THE  FACT  THAT  HE  CAN  DO  NOTHING,   53 

That  is,  he  loves  not,  nor  possesses  One 

Idea  that,  star-like  over,  lures  him  on 

To  its  exclusive  purpose.     "  Fortunate ! 

This  flesh  of  mine  ne'er  strove  to  emulate 

A  soul  so  various  —  took  no  casual  mould 

Of  the  first  fancy  and,  contracted,  cold, 

Lay  clogged  forever  thence,  averse  to  change 

As  that :  whereas  it  left  her  free  to  range, 

Remains  itself  a  blank,  cast  into  shade, 

Encumbers  little,  if  it  cannot  aid. 

So,  range,  my  soul !  —  who,  by  self-consciousness? 

The  last  drop  of  all  beauty  dost  express  — 

The  grace  of  seeing  grace,  a  quintessence 

For  thee :  but  for  the  world,  that  can  dispense 

Wonder  on  men  who,  themselves,  wonder  —  make 

A  shift  to  love  at  second-hand,  and  take 

Those  for  its  idols  who  but  idolize, 

Themselves,  —  world  that  loves  souls  as  strong  or  wise, 

Who,  themselves,  love  strength,  wisdom,  —  it  shall  bow 

Surely  in  unexampled  worship  now, 

Discerning  me ! "  — 

(Dear  monarch,  I  beseech, 
Notice  how  lamentably  wide  a  breach 
Is  here  !  discovering  this,  discover  too 
What  our  poor  world  has  possibly  to  do 
With  it !     As  pygmy  natures  as  you  please  — 
So  much  the  better  for  you ;  take  your  ease  ; 
Look  on,  and  laugh  ;  style  yourself  God  alone  ; 
Strangle  some  day  with  a  cross  olive-stone : 


54  YET   IS    ABLE    TO    IMAGINE    EVERYTHING, 

All  that  is  right  enough :  but  why  want  us 

To  know  that  you  yourself  know  thus  and  thus  ?) 

"  The  world  shall  bow  to  me  conceiving  all 

Man's  life,  who  sees  its  blisses,  great  and  small, 

Afar  —  not  tasting  any  ;  no  machine 

To  exercise  my  utmost  will  is  mine  : 

Be  mine  mere  consciousness  !     Let  them  perceive 

What  I  could  do,  a  mastery  believe, 

Asserted  and  established  to  the  throng 

By  their  selected  evidence  of  song 

Which  now  shall  prove,  whate'er  they  are,  or  seek 

To  be,  I  am  —  who  take  no  pains  to  speak, 

Change  no  old  standards  of  perfection,  vex 

With  no  strange  forms  created  to  perplex, 

But  will  perform  their  bidding  and  no  more, 

At  their  own  satiating-point  give  o'er, 

While  each  shall  love  in  me  the  love  that  leads 

His  soul  to  its  perfection."     Song,  not  deeds, 

(For  we  get  tired)  was  chosen.     Fate  would  brook 

Mankind  no  other  organ ;  he  would  look 

For  not  another  channel  to  dispense 

His  own  volition,  and  receive  their  sense 

Of  its  existing  ;  but  would  be  content, 

Obstructed  else,  with  merely  verse  for  vent. 

Nor 'should,  for  instance,  strength  an  outlet  seek 

And,  striving,  be  admired,  nor  grace  bespeak 

Wonder,  displayed  in  gracious  attitudes  ; 

Nor  wisdom,  poured  forth,  change  unseemly  moods 

But  he  would  give  and  take  on  song's  one  point. 


IF   THE    WORLD    ESTEEM   THIS    EQUIVALENT.        55 

Like  some  huge  throbbing- stone  that,  poised  a-joint, 

Sounds,  to  affect  on  its  basaltic  bed, 

Must  sue  in  just  one  accent ;  tempests  shed 

Thunder,  and  raves  the  landstorm :  only  let 

That  key  by  any  little  noise  be  set  — 

The  far  benighted  hunter's  halloo  pitch 

On  that,  the  hungry  curlew  chance  to  scritch 

Or  serpent  hiss  it,  rustling  through  the  rift, 

However  loud,  however  low  —  all  lift 

The  groaning  monster,  stricken  to  the  heart. 

Lo  ye,  the  world's  concernment,  for  its  part, 
And  this,  for  his,  will  hardly  interfere  ! 
Its  businesses  in  blood  and  blaze  this  year 
But  wile  the  hour  away  —  a  pastime  slight 
Till  he  shall  step  upon  the  platform :  right ! 
And,  now  thus  much  is  settled,  cast  in  rough, 
Proved  feasible,  be  counselled  !  thought  enough,  — 
Slumber,  Sordello  !  any  day  will  serve  : 
Were  it  a  less  digested  plan  !  how  swerve 
To-morrow  ?     Meanwhile  eat  these  sun-dried  grapes, 
And  watch  the  soaring  hawk  there  !     Life  escapes 
Merrily  thus. 

He  thoroughly  read  o'er 
His  truchman  Naddo's  missive  six  times  more, 
Praying  him  visit  Mantua  and  supply 
A  famished  world. 

•The  evening  star  was  high 
When  he  reached  Mantua,  but  his  fame  arrived 
Before  him  :  friends  applauded,  foes  connived, 


56    HE  HAS  LOVED  HIS  SONG'S  RESULTS,  NOT  SONG 

And  Naddo  looked  an  angel,  and  the  rest 

Angels,  and  all  these  angels  would  be  blest 

Supremely  by  a  song  —  the  thrice-renowned 

Groito  manufacture.     Then  he  found 

(Casting  about  to  satisfy  the  crowd) 

That  happy  vehicle,  so  late  allowed, 

A  sore  annoyance :  't  was_the_s^n£'s_efiject--' 

He  cared  for,  scarce  the  song  itself:  reflect ! 

In  the  past  life,  what  might  be  singing's  use  ? 

Just  to  delight  his  Delians,  whose  profuse 

Praise,  not  the  toilsome  process  which  procured 

That  praise,  enticed  Apollo :  dreams  abjured, 

No  over-leaping  means  for  ends  —  take  both 

For  granted  or  take  neither !     I  am  loath 

To  say  the  rhymes  at  last  were  Eglamor's ; 

But  Naddo,  chuckling,  bade  competitors 

Go  pine ;  "  the  master  certes  meant  to  waste 

No  effort,  cautiously  had  probed  the  taste 

He  'd  please  anon :  true  bard,  in  short,  disturb 

His  title  if  they  could  ;  nor  spur  nor  curb, 

Fancy  nor  reason,  wanting  in  him ;  whence 

The  staple  of  his  verses,  common  sense : 

He  built  on  man's  broad  nature  —  gift  of  gifts, 

That  power  to  build  !     The  world  contented  shifts 

With  counterfeits  enough,  a  dreary  sort 

Of  warriors,  statesmen,  ere  it  can  extort 

Its  poet-soul  —  that 's,  after  all,  a  freak 

(The  having  eyes  to  see  and  tongue  to  speak) 

With  our  herd's  stupid  sterling  happiness 


SO,    MUST    EFFECT    THIS    TO    OBTAIN   THOSE.         57 

So  plainly  incompatible  that  —  yes  — 
yes  —  should  a  son  of  his  improve  the  breed 
And  turn  out  poet,  he  were  cursed  indeed  ! " 
"  Well,  there 's  Goito  and  its  woods  anon, 
If  the  worst  happen ;  best  go  stoutly  on 
Now ! "  thought  Bordello. 

Ay,  and  goes  on  yet ! 
You  pother  with  your  glossaries  to  get 
A  notion  of  the  Troubadour's  intent 
In  rondel,  tenzon,  virlai  or  sirvent  — 
Much  as  you  study  arras  how  to  twirl 
His  angelot,  plaything  of  page  and  girl, 
Once ;  but  you  surely  reach,  at  last,  —  or,  no  ! 
Never  quite  reach  what  struck  the  people  so, 
As  from  the  welter  of  their  time  he  drew 
Its  elements  successively  to  view, 
Followed  all  actions  backward  on  their  course, 
And  catching  up,  unmingled  at  the  source, 
Such  a  strength,  such  a  weakness,  added  then 
A  touch  or  two,  and  turned  them  into  men. 
Virtue  took^form,  nor  vice  refused  a  shape  ; 
Here  heaven  opened,  there  was  hell  agape, 
As  Saint  this  simpered  past  in  sanctity, 
Sinner  the  other  flared  portentous  by 
A  greedy  people.     Then  why  stop,  surprised 
At  his  success  ?     The  scheme  was  realized 
Too  suddenly  in  one  respect :  a  crowd 
Praising,  eyes  quick  to  see,  and  lips  as  loud 
To  speak,  delicious  homage  to  receive, 

3*  c 


58        HE    SUCCEEDS    A   LITTLE,   BUT   FAILS    MOKE  J 

The  woman's  breath  to  feel  upon  his  sleeve, 
Who  said,  "  But  Anafest  —  why  asks  he  less 
Than  Lucio,  in  your  verses  ?  how  confess, 
It  seemed  too  much  but  yestereve  ! "  —  the  youth, 
Who  bade  him  earnestly,  "  Avow  the  truth  ! 
You  love  Bianca,  surely,  from  your  song; 
I  knew  I  was  unworthy  !  "  —  soft  or  strong, 
In  poured  such  tributes  ere  he  had  arranged 
Ethereal  ways  to  take  them,  sorted,  changed, 
Digested.     Courted  thus  at  unawares, 
In  spite  of  his  pretensions  and  his  cares, 
He  caught  himself  shamefully  hankering 
JAfter  the  obvious  petty  joys  that  spring 
\Froni  real  life,  fain  relinquish  pedestal 
And  condescend  with  pleasures  —  one  and  all 
To  be  renounced,  no  doubt ;  for,  thus  to  chain 
Himself  to  single  joys  and  so  refrain 
From  tasting  their  quintessence,  frustrated,  sure, 
His  prime  design ;  each  joy  must  he  abjure 
Even  for  love  of  it. 

He  laughed  :  what  sage 
But  perishes  if  from  his  magic  page 
He  looked  because,  at  the  first  line,  a  proof 
'T  was  heard  salutes  him  from  the  cavern-roof  ? 
"  On  !  Give  yourself,  excluding  aught  beside, 
To  the  day's  task ;  compel  your  slave  provide 
Its  utmost  at  the  soonest ;  turn  the  leaf 
Thoroughly  conned.     These  lays  of  yours,  in  brief  - 
Cannot  men  bear,  now,  something  better  ?  —  fly 


TRIES    AGAIN,    IS    NO    BETTER    SATISFIED,  59 

A  pitch  beyond  this  jmreal  pageantry 
Of  essences  ?  the  period  sure  has  ceased 
For  such  :  present  us  with  ourselves,  at  least, 
Not  portions  of  ourselves,  mere  loves  and  hates  -• 
Made  flesh  :  wait  not !  " 

Awhile  the  poet  waits 
However.     The  first  trial  was  enough  : 
He  left  imagining,  to  try  the  stuff 
That  held  the  imaged  thing,  and,  let  it  writhe 
Never  so  fiercely,  scarce  allowed  a  tithe 
To  reach  the  light  —  his  Language.     How  he  sought 
The  cause,  conceived  a  cure,  and  slow  re-wrought 
That  Language,  —  welding  words  into  the  crude 
Mass  from  the  new  speech  round  him,  till  a  rude 
Armor  was  hammered  out,  in  time  to  be 
Approved  beyond  the  Roman  panoply 
Melted  to  make  it,  —  boots  not.     This  obtained 
With  some  ado,  no  obstacle  remained 
To  using  it ;  accordingly  he  took 
An  action  with  its  actors,  quite  forsook 
Himself  to  live  in  each,  returned  anon 
With  the  result  —  a  creature,  and,  by  one 
And  one,  proceeded  leisurely  to  equip 
Its  limbs  in  harness  of  his  workmanship. 
"  Accomplished  !     Listen,  Mantuans  !  "     Fond  essay  ! 
Piece  after  piece  that  armor  broke  away, 
Because  perceptions  whole,  like  that  he  sought 
To  clothe,  reject  so  pure  a  work  of  thought 
As  language  :  thought  may  take  perception's  place 


60         AND    DECLINES   FROM   THE    IDEAL    OF    SONG. 

But  hardly  coexist  in  any  case, 

Being  its  mere  presentment  —  of  the  whole 

By  parts,  the  simultaneous  and  the  sole 

By  the  successive  and  the  many.     Lacks 

The  crowd  perception  ?  painfully  it  tacks 

Thought  to  thought,  which  Bordello,  needing  such, 

Has  rent  perception  into  :  it 's  to  clutch 

And  reconstruct  —  his  office  to  diffuse, 

Destroy  :  as  hard,  then,  to  obtain  a  Muse 

As  to  become  Apollo.     "  For  the  rest, 

E'en  if  some  wondrous  vehicle  exprest 

The  whole  dream,  what  impertinence  in  me 

So  to  express  it,  who  myself  can  be 

The  dream  !  nor,  on  the  other  hand,  are  those 

I  sing  to,  over-likely  to  suppose 

A  higher  than  the  highest  I  present 

Now,  which  they  praise  already  :  be  content 

Both  parties,  rather  —  they  with  the  old  verse, 

And  I  with  the  old  praise  —  far  go,  fare  worse  !  " 

A  few  adhering  rivets  loosed,  upsprings 

The  angel,  sparkles  off  his  mail,  and  rings 

Wliirled  from  each  delicatest  limb  it  warps, 

As  might  Apollo  from  the  sudden  corpse 

Of  Hyacinth  have  cast  his  luckless  quoits. 

He  set  to  celebrating  the  exploits 

Of  Montfort  o'er  the  Mountaineers. 

Then  came 

The  world's  revenge  :  their  pleasure,  now  his  aim 
Merely,  —  what  was  it  ?     "  Not  to  play  the  fool 


WHAT  IS  THE  WORLD'S  RECOGNITION  WORTH  ?      61 

So  much  as  learn  our  lesson  in  your  school ! " 

Replied  the  world.     He  found  that,  every  time 

He  gained  applause  by  any  ballad-rhyme, 

His  auditory  recognized  no  jot 

As  he  intended,  and,  mistaking  not 

Him  for  his  meanest  hero,  ne'er  was  dunce 

Sufficient  to  believe  him  —  all,  at  once. 

His  will  .  .  .  conceive  it  caring  for  his  will ! 

—  Mantuans,  the  main  of  them,  admiring  still 

How  a  mere  singer,  ugly,  stunted,  weak, 

Had  Montfort  at  completely  (so  to  speak) 

His  fingers'  ends  ;  while  past  the  praise-tide  swept 

To  Montfort,  cither's  share  distinctly  kept : 

The  true  meed  for  true  merit !  —  his  abates 

Into  a  sort  he  most  repudiates, 

And  on  them  angrily  he  turns.     Who  were 

The  Mantuans,  after  all,  that  he  should  care 

About  their  recognition,  ay  or  no  ? 

In  spite  of  the  convention  months  ago, 

(Why  blink  the  truth  ?)  was  not  he  forced  to  help 

This  same  ungrateful  audience,  every  whelp 

Of  Naddo's  litter,  make  them  pass  for  peers 

With  the  bright  band  of  old  Goito  years, 

As  erst  he  toiled  for  flower  or  tree  ?     Why,  there 

Sat  Palma !     Adelaide's  funereal  hair 

Ennobled  the  next  corner.     Ay,  he  strewed 

A  fairy  dust  upon  that  multitude, 

Although  he  feigned  to  take  them  by  themselves ; 

His  giants  dignified  those  puny  elves, 


62        HOW,  POET  NO  LONGER  IN  UNITY  WITH  MAN, 

Sublimed  their  faint  applause.     In  short,  he  found 

Himself  still  footing  a  delusive  round, 

Remote  as  ever  from  the  self-display 

He  meant  to  compass,  hampered  every  way 

By  what  he  hoped  assistance.     Wherefore  then 

Continue,  make  believe  to  find  in  men 

A  use  he  found  not  ? 

Weeks,  months,  years  went  by ; 
And,  lo,  Sordello  vanished  utterly, 
Sundered  in  twain ;  each  spectral  part  at  strife 
With  each ;  one  jarred  against  another  life  ; 
The  Poet  thwarting  hopelessly  the  Man 
Who,  fooled  no  longer,  free  in  fancy  ran 
Here,  there ;  let  slip  no  opportunities 
As  pitiful,  forsooth,  beside  the  prize 
To  drop  on  him  some  no-time  and  acquit 
His  constant  faith  (the  Poet-half  s  to  wit  — 
That  waiving  any  compromise  between 
No  joy  and  all  joy  kept  the  hunger  keen 
Beyond  most  methods)  —  of  incurring  scoff 
From  the  Man-portion  not  to  be  put  off 
With  self-reflectings  by  the  Poet's  scheme, 
Though  ne'er  so  bright ;  that  sauntered  forth  in  dream, 
Drest  any  how,  nor  waited  mystic  frames, 
Immeasurable  gifts,  astounding  claims, 
But  just  his  sorry  self —  who  yet  might  be 
Sorrier  for  aught  he  in  reality 
Achieved,  so  pinioned  That  the  Poet-part, 
Fondling,  in  turn  of  fancy,  verse  ;  the  Art 


THE  WHOLE  VISIBLE  BORDELLO  GOES  WRONG       63 

Developing  his  soul  a  thousand  ways  — 

Potent,  by  its  assistance,  to  amaze 

The  multitude  with  majesties,  convince 

Each  sort  of  nature,  that  same  nature's  prince 

Accosted  it.     Language,  the  makeshift,  grew 

Into  a  bravest  of  expedients,  too  ; 

Apollo,  seemed  it  now,  perverse  had  thrown 

Quiver  and  bow  away,  the  lyre  alone 

Sufficed.     While,  out  of  dream,  his  day's  work  went 

To  tune  a  crazy  tenzon  or  sirvent  — 

So  hampered  him  the  Man-part,  thrust  to  judge 

Between  the  bard  and  the  bard's  audience,  grudge 

A  minute's  toil  that  missed  its  due  rewand ! 

But  the  complete  Sordello,  Man  and  Bard, 

John's  cloud-girt  angel,  this  foot  on  the  land, 

That  on  the  sea,  with  open  in  his  hand 

A  bitter-sweetling  of  a  book  —  was  gone. 

And  if  internal  struggles  to  be  one 
That  frittered  him  incessantly  piecemeal, 
Referred,  ne'er  so  obliquely,  to  the  real 
Mautuans !  intruding  ever  with  some  call 
To  action  while  he  pondered,  once  for  all, 
Which  looked  the  easier  effort  —  to  pursue 
This  course,  still  leap  o'er  paltry  joys,  yearn  through 
The  present  ill-appreciated  stage 
Of  self-revealment,  and  compel  the  age 
Know  him ;  or  else,  forswearing  bard-craft,  wake 
From  out  his  lethargy  and  nobly  shake 
Off  timid  habits  of  denial,  mix 


64   WITH  THOSE  TOO  HAKD  FOR  HALF  OF  HIM, 

"With  men,  enjoy  like  men.     Ere  he  could  fix 

On  aught,  in  rushed  the  Mantuans  ;  much  they  cared 

For  his  perplexity !     Thus  unprepared, 

The  obvious  if  not  only  shelter  lay 

In  deeds,  the  dull  conventions  of  his  day 

Prescribed  the  like  of  him  :  why  not  be  glad 

'T  is  settled  Palma's  minstrel,  good  or  bad, 

Submits  to  this  and  that  established  rule  ? 

Let  Vidal  change,  or  any  other  fool, 

His  murrey-colored  robe  for  philamot, 

And  crop  his  hair ;  too  skin-deep,  is  it  not, 

Such  vigor  ?     Then,  a  sorrow  to  the  heart, 

His  talk  !     Whatever  topics  they  might  start, 

Had  to  be  groped  for  in  his  consciousness 

Straight,  and  as  straight  delivered  them  by  guess. 

Only  obliged  to  ask  himself,  "  What  was," 

A  speedy  answer  followed ;  but,  alas, 

One  of  God's  large  ones,  tardy  to  condense 

Itself  into  a  period ;  answers  whence 

A  tangle  of  conclusions  must  be  stripped 

At  any  risk  ere,  trim  to  pattern  clipped, 

They  matched  rare  specimens  the  Mantuan  flock 

Regaled  him  with,  each  talker  from  his  stock 

Of  sorted-o'er  opinions,  every  stage, 

Juicy  in  youth  or  desiccate  with  age, 

Fruits  like  the  fig-tree's,  rathe-ripe,  rotten-rich, 

Sweet-sour,  all  tastes  to  take  :  a  practice  which 

He  too  had  not  impossibly  attained, 

Once  either  of  those  fancy-flights  restrained ; 


OF    WHOM    HE    IS    ALSO    TOO    CONTEMPTUOUS.        65 

For,  at  conjecture  how  might  words  appear 

To  others,  playing  there  what  happened  here, 

And  occupied  abroad  by  what  he  spurned 

At  home,  't  was  slipt,  the  occasion  he  returned 

To  seize  :  he  'd  strike  that  lyre  adroitly  —  speech, 

Would  but  a  twenty-cubit  plectre  reach  ; 

A  clever  hand,  consummate  instrument, 

Were  both  brought  close  ;  each  excellency  went 

For  nothing  else.     The  question  Naddo  asked, 

Had  just  a  lifetime  moderately  tasked 

To  answer,  Naddo's  fashion.     More  disgust 

And  more  !  why  move  his  soul,  since  move  it  must 

At  a  minute's  notice  or  as  good  it  failed 

To  move  at  all  ?     The  end  was,  he  retailed 

Some  ready-made  opinion,  put  to  use 

This  quip,  that  maxim,  ventured  reproduce 

Gestures  and  tones  —  at  any  folly  caught 

Serving  to  finish  with,  nor  too  much  sought 

If  false  or  true  't  was  spoken ;  praise  and  blame 

Of  what  he  said  grew  pretty  well  the  same 

—  Meantime  awards  to  meantime  acts :  his  soul, 

Unequal  to  the  compassing  a  whole, 

Saw,  in  a  tenth  part,  less  and  less  to  strive 

About.     And  as  for  men  in  turn  .  .  .  contrive 

Who  could  to  take  eternal  interest 

In  them,  so  hate  the  worst,  so  love  the  best ! 

Though,  in  pursuance  of  his  passive  plan, 

He  hailed,  decried  the  proper  way. 

As  Man 


66        HE   PLEASES    NEITHER   HIMSELF   NOR   THEM. 

So  figured  he ;  and  how  as  Poet  ?     Verse 

Came  only  not  to  a  stand-still.     The  worse, 

That  his  poor  piece  of  daily  work  to  do 

Was,  not  sink  under  any  rivals ;  who 

Loudly  and  loud  enough,  without  these  qualms, 

Tuned,  from  Bocafoli's  stark-naked  psalms, 

To  Plara's  sonnets  spoilt  by  toying  with, 

"  As  knops  that  stud  some  almug  to  the  pith 

Pricked  for  gum,  wry  thence,  and  crinkled  worse 

Than  pursed  eyelids  of  a  river-horse 

Sunning    himself    o'    the    slime    when    whirrs    the 

breeze  "  — 

Gad-fly,  that  is.     He  might  compete  with  these  ! 
But  —  but  — 

"  Observe  a  pompion-twine  afloat ; 
Pluck  me  one  cup  from  off  the  castle-moat ! 
Along  with  cup  you  raise  leaf,  stalk  and  root, 
The  entire  surface  of  the  pool  to  boot. 
So  could  I  pluck  a  cup,  put  in  one  song 
A  single  sight,  did  not  my  hand,  too  strong, 
Twitch  in  the  least  the  root-strings  of  the  whole. 
How  should  externals  satisfy  my  soul  ?  " 
"  Why  that 's  precise  the  error  Squarcialupe  " 
(Hazarded  Naddo)  "  finds  ;  '  the  man  can't  stoop 
To  sing  us  out,'  quoth  he,  '  a  mere  romance ; 
He  'd  fain  do  better  than  the  best,  enhance 
The  subjects'  rarity,  work  problems  out 
Therewith ' :  now,  you  're  a  bard,  a  bard  past  doubt, 
And  no  philosopher ;  why  introduce 


WHICH    THE    BEST   JUDGES    ACCOUNT   FOR.  67 

Crotchets  like  these  ?  fine,  surely,  but  no  use 

In  poetry  —  which  still  must  be,  to  strike, 

Based  upon  common  sense ;  there 's  nothing  like 

Appealing  to  our  nature !  what  beside 

Was  your  first  poetry  ?     No  tricks  were  tried 

In  that,  no  hollow  thrills,  affected  throes  ! 

*  The  man/  said  we,  t  tells  his  own  joys  and  woes  — 

"We  '11  trust  him.'     Would  you  have  your  songs  endure  ? 

Build  on  the  human  heart !  —  Why,  to  be  sure 

Yours  is  one  sort  of  heart  —  but  I  mean  theirs, 

Ours,  every  one's,  the  healthy  heart  one  cares 

To  build  on !     Central  peace,  mother  of  strength, 

That's  father  of .  .  .  nay,  go  yourself  that  length, 

Ask  those  calm-hearted  doers  what  they  do 

When  they  have  got  their  calm  !     And  is  it  true, 

Fire  rankles  at  the  heart  of  every  globe  ? 

Perhaps  !     But  these  are  matters  one  may  probe 

Too  deeply  for  poetic  purposes  : 

Rather  select  a  theory  that .  .  .  yes, 

Laugh !  what  does  that  prove  ?  —  stations  you  midway 

And  saves  some  little  o'er-refining.     Nay, 

That 's  rank  injustice  done  me  !     I  restrict 

The  poet  ?     Don't  I  hold  the  poet  picked 

Out  of  a  host  of  warriors,  statesman  .  .  .  did 

I  tell  you  ?     Very  like  !     As  well  you  hid 

That  sense  of  power,  you  have !     True  bards  believe 

All  able  to  achieve  what  they  achieve  — 

That  is,  just  nothing  —  in  one  point  abide 

Profounder  simpletons  than  all  beside. 


68         THEIR    CRITICISMS    GIVE    SMALL    COMFORT  : 

Oh,  ay !     The  knowledge  that  you  are  a  bard 

Must  constitute  your  prime,  nay  sole,  reward  ! " 

So  prattled  Naddo,  busiest  of  the  tribe 

Of  genius-haunters  —  how  shall  I  describe 

What  grubs  or  nips,  or  rubs,  or  rips  —  your  louse 

For  love,  your  flea  for  hate,  magnanimous, 

Malignant,  Pappacoda,  Tagliafer, 

Picking  a  sustenance  from  wear  and  tear 

By  implements  it  sedulous  employs 

To  undertake,  lay  down,  mete  out,  o'er-toise 

Bordello  ?     Fifty  creepers  to  elude 

At  once !     They  settled  stanchly ;  shame  ensued : 

Behold  the  monarch  of  mankind  succumb 

To  the  last  fool  who  turned  him  round  his  thumb, 

As  Naddo  styled  it !     'T  was  not  worth  oppose 

The  matter  of  a  moment,  gainsay  those 

He  aimed  at  getting  rid  of ;  better  think 

Their  thoughts  and  speak  their  speech,  secure  to  slink 

Back  expeditiously  to  his  safe  place, 

And  chew  the  cud  —  what  he  and  what  his  race 

Were  really,  each  of  them.     Yet  even  this 

Conformity  was  partial.     He  would  miss 

Some  point,  brought  into  contact  with  them  ere 

Assured  in  what  small  segment  of  the  sphere 

Of  his  existence  they  attended  him  ; 

Whence  blunders  —  falsehoods  rectify  —  a  grim 

List  —  slur  it  over  !     How  ?     If  dreams  were  tried, 

His  will  swayed  sicklily  from  side  to  side, 

Nor  merely  neutralized  his  waking  act 


AND    HIS    OWN    DEGRADATION    IS    COMPLETE.        69 

But  tended  e'en  in  fancy  to  distract 

The  intermediate  will,  the  choice  of  means. 

He  lost  the  art  of  dreaming :  Mantuan  scenes 

Supplied  a  baron,  say,  he  sung  before, 

Handsomely  reckless,  full  to  running  o'er 

Of  gallantries ;  "  abjure  the  soul,  content 

"With  body,  therefore !  "     Scarcely  had  he  bent 

Himself  in  dream  thus  low,  when  matter  fast 

Cried  out,  he  found,  for  spirit  to  contrast 

And  task  it  duly  ;  by  advances  slight, 

The  simple  stuff  becoming  composite, 

Count  Lori  grew  Apollo  —  best  recall 

His  fancy !     Then  would  some  rough  peasant-Paul, 

Like  those  old  Ecelin  confers  with,  glance 

His  gay  apparel  o'er ;  that  countenance 

Gathered  his  shattered  fancy  into  one, 

And,  body  clean  abolished,  soul  alone 

Sufficed  the  gray  Paulician :  by  and  by, 

To  balance  the  ethereality, 

Passions  were  needed  ;  foiled  he  sunk  again. 

Meanwhile  the  world  rejoiced  ('tis  time  explain) 
Because  a  sudden  sickness  set  it  free 
From  Adelaide.     Missing  the  mother-bee, 
Her  mountain-hive  Romano  swarmed ;  at  once 
A  rustle-forth  of  daughters  and  of  sons 
Blackened  the  valley.     "  I  am  sick  too,  old, 
Hah0  crazed  I  think ;  what  good 's  the  Kaiser's  gold 
To  such  an  one  ?     God  help  me !  for  I  catch 
My  children's  greedy  sparkling  eyes  at  watch  — 


70  ADELAIDE'S  DEATH  ;  WHAT  HAPPENS  ON  IT  : 

He  bears  that  double  breastplate  on,  they  say, 

So  many  minutes  less  than  yesterday ! 

Beside,  Monk  Hilary  is  on  his  knees 

Now,  sworn  to  kneel  and  pray  till  God  shall  please 

Exact  a  punishment  for  many  things 

You  know,  and  some  you  never  knew ;  which  brings 

To  memory,  Azzo's  sister  Beatrix 

And  Richard's  Giglia  are  my  Alberic's 

And  Ecelin's  betrothed ;  the  Count  himself 

Must  get  my  Palma :  Ghibellin  and  Guelf 

Mean  to  embrace  each  other."     So  began 

Romano's  missive  to  his  fighting-man 

Taurello  —  on  the  Tuscan's  death,  away 

With  Friedrich  sworn  to  sail  from  Naples'  bay 

Next  month  for  Syria.     Never  thunder-clap 

Out  of  Vesuvius'  throat,  like  this  mishap 

Startled  him.     "  That  accursed  Vicenza  !     I 

Absent,  and  she  selects  this  time  to  die ! 

Ho,  fellows,  for  Vicenza ! "     Half  a  score 

Of  horses  ridden  dead,  he  stood  before 

Romano  in  his  reeking  spurs  :  too  late  — 

"  Boniface  urged  me,  Este  could  not  wait," 

The  chieftain  stammered ;  "  let  me  die  in  peace  — 

Forget  me  !     Was  it  I  e'er  craved  increase 

Of  rule  ?     Do  you  and  Friedrich  plot  your  worst 

Against  the  Father :  as  you  found  me  first 

So  leave  me  now.     Forgive  me !  Palma,  sure, 

Is  at  Goito  still.     Retain  that  lure  — 

Only  be  pacified  ! " 


AND  A  TROUBLE  IT  OCCASIONS  SORDELLO.    71 

The  country  rung 

With,  such  a  piece  of  news :  on  every  tongue, 
How  Ecelin's  great  servant,  congeed  off, 
Had  done  a  long  day's  service,  so,  might  doff 
The  green  and  yellow,  and  recover  breath 
At  Mantua,  whither,  —  since  Retrude's  death, 
(The  girlish  slip  of  a  Sicilian  bride 
From  Otho's  House,  he  carried  to  reside 
At  Mantua  till  the  Ferrarese  should  pile 
A  structure  worthy  her  imperial  style, 
The  gardens  raise,  the  statues  there  enshrine, 
She  never  lived  to  see)  —  although  his  line 
Was  ancient  in  her  archives  and  she  took 
A  pride  in  him,  that  city,  nor  forsook 
Her  child  when  he  forsook  himself  and  spent 
A  prowess  on  Romano  surely  meant 
For  his  own  growth  —  whither  he  ne'er  resorts 
If  wholly  satisfied  (to  trust  reports) 
With  Ecelin.     So,  forward  in  a  trice 
Were  shows  to  greet  him.     "  Take  a  friend's  advice," 
Quoth  Naddo  to  Sordello,  "  nor  be  rash 
Because  your  rivals  (nothing  can  abash 
Some  folks)  demur  that  we  pronounced  you  best 
To  sound  the  great  man's  welcome  ;  't  is  a  test, 
Remember !  Strojavacca  looks  asquint, 
The  rough  fat  sloven ;  and  there 's  plenty  hint 
Your  pinions  have  received  of  late  a  shock  — 
Out-soar  them,  cobswan  of  the  silver  flock ! 
Sing  well ! "     A  signal  wonder,  song 's  no  whit 
Facilitated. 


72        HE    CHANCES    UPON    HIS    OLD    ENVIRONMENT, 

Fast  the  minutes  flit ; 
Another  day,  Sordello  finds,  will  bring 
The  soldier,  and  he  cannot  choose  but  sing ; 
•So,  a  last  shift,  quits  Mantua  —  slow,  alone : 
Out  of  that  aching  brain,  a  very  stone, 
Song  must  be  struck.     What  occupies  that  front  ? 
Just  how  he  was  more  awkward  than  his  wont 
The  night  before,  when  Naddo,  who  had  seen 
Taurello  on  his  progress,  praised  the  mien 
For  dignity  no  crosses  could  affect  — 
Such  was  a  joy,  and  might  not  he  detect 
A  satisfaction  if  established  joys 
Were  proved  imposture  ?     Poetry  annoys 
Its  utmost :  wherefore  fret  ?     Verses  may  come 
Or  keep  away !     And  thus  he  wandered,  dumb 
Till  evening,  when  he  paused,  thoroughly  spent, 
On  a  blind  hill-top :  down  the  gorge  he  went, 
Yielding  himself  up  as  to  an  embrace. 
The  moon  came  out ;  like  features  of  a  face 
A  querulous  fraternity  of  pines, 
Sad  blackthorn  clumps,  leafless  and  grovelling  vines 
Also  came  out,  made  gradually  up 
The  picture ;  't  was  Goito's  mountain-cup 
And  castle.     He  had  dropped  through  one  defile 
He  never  dared  explore,  the  Chief  erewhile 
Had  vanished  by.     Back  rushed  the  dream,  enwrapped 
Him  wholly.     'T  was  Apollo  now  they  lapped, 
Those  mountains,  not  a  pettish  minstrel  meant 
To  wear  his  soul  away  in  discontent, 


SEES    BUT   FAILURE   IN    ALL    DONE    SINCE,  73 

Brooding  on  fortune's  malice..  Heart  and  brain 

Swelled ;  he  expanded  to  himself  again, 

As  some  thin  seedling  spice-tree  starved  and  frail, 

Pushing  between  cat's  head  and  ibis'  tail 

Crusted  into  the  porphyry  pavement  smooth, 

—  Suffered  remain  just  as  it  sprung,  to  soothe 

The  Soldan's  pining  daughter,  never  yet 

Well  in  her  chilly  green-glazed  minaret,  — 

"When  rooted  up,  the  sunny  day  she  died, 

And  flung  into  the  common  court  beside 

Its  parent  tree.     Come  home,  Sordello !     Soon 

Was  he  low  muttering,  beneath  the  moon, 

Of  sorrow  saved,  of  quiet  evermore,  — 

Since  from  the  purpose,  he  maintained  before, 

Only  resulted  wailing  and  hot  tears. 

Ah,  the  slim  castle !  dwindled  of  late  years, 

But  more  mysterious  ;  gone  to  ruin  —  trails 

Of  vine  through  every  loop-hole.     Naught  avails 

The  night  as,  torch  in  hand,  he  must  explore 

The  maple  chamber  —  did  I  say,  its  floor 

Was  made  of  intersecting  cedar  beams  ? 

Worn  now  with  gaps  so  large,  there  blew  cold  streams 

Of  air  quite  from  the  dungeon ;  lay  your  ear 

Close  and  't  is  like,  one  after  one,  you  hear 

In  the  blind  darkness  water  drop.     The  nests 

And  nooks  retained  their  long  ranged  vesture-chests 

Empty  and  smelling  of  the  iris-root 

The  Tuscan  grated  o'er  them  to  recruit 

Her  wasted  wits.     Palma  was  gone  that  day, 

4 


74       AND    RESOLVES    TO    DESIST    FROM    THE    LIKE. 

Said  the  remaining  women.     Last,  he  lay 
Beside  the  Carian  group  reserved  and  still. 
The  Body,  the  Machine  for  Acting  Will, 
Had  been  at  the  commencement  proved  unfit ; 
That  for  Reflecting,  Demonstrating  it, 
Mankind  —  no  fitter :  was  the  Will  Itself 
In  fault  ? 

His  forehead  pressed  the  moonlit  shelf 
Beside  the  youngest  marble  maid  awhile ; 
Then,  raising  it,  he  thought,  with  a  long  smile, 
"  I  shall  be  king  again  ! "  as  he  withdrew 
The  envied  scarf;  into  the  font  he  threw 
His  crown. 

Next  day,  no  poet !     "  Wherefore  ?  "  asked 
Taurello,  when  the  dance  of  Jongleurs,  masked 
As  devils,  ended ;  "  don't  a  song  come  next  ?  " 
The  master  of  the  pageant  looked  perplext 
Till  Naddo's  whisper  came  to  his  relief. 
"  His  Highness  knew  what  poets  were :  in  brief, 
Had  not  the  tetchy  race  prescriptive  right 
To  peevishness,  caprice  ?  or,  call  it  spite, 
One  must  receive  their  nature  in  its  length 
And  breadth,  expect  the  weakness  with  the  strength  ! " 
—  So  phrasing,  till,  his  stock  of  phrases  spent, 
The  easy-natured  soldier  smiled  assent, 
Settled  his  portly  person,  smoothed  his  chin, 
And  nodded  that  the  bull-bait  might  begin. 


BOOK    THE    THIRD. 

NATURE    MAT    TRIUMPH     THEREFORE; 

AND  the  font  took  them :  let  our  laurels  lie ! 

Braid  moonfern  now  with  mystic  trifoly 

Because  once  more  Goito  gets,  once  more, 

Sordello  to  itself !     A  dream  is  o'er, 

And  the  suspended  life  begins  anew ; 

Quiet  those  throbbing  temples,  then,  subdue 

That  cheek's  distortion  !     Nature's  strict  embrace, 

Putting  aside  the  Past,  shall  soon  efface 

Its  print  as  well  —  factitious  humors  grown 

Over  the  true  —  loves,  hatreds  not  his  own  — 

And  turn  him  pure  as  some  forgotten  vest 

Woven  of  painted  byssus,  silkiest 

Tufting  the  Tyrrhene  whelk's  pearl-sheeted  lip, 

Left  welter  where  a  trireme  let  it  slip 

I'  the  sea,  and  vexed  a  satrap ;  so  the  stain 

O'  the  world  forsakes  Sordello,  with  its  pain, 

Its  pleasure:  how  the  tinct  loosening  escapes, 

Cloud  after  cloud !     Mantua's  familiar  shapes 

Die,  fair  and  foul  die,  fading  as  they  flit, 

Men,  women,  and  the  pathos  and  the  wit, 

"Wise  speech  and  foolish,  deeds  to  smile  or  sigh 

For,  good,  bad,  seemly  or  ignoble,  die. 

The  last  face  glances  through  the  eglantines, 


76        FOR   HER    SON,    LATELY   ALIVE,   DIES    AGAIN, 

The  last  voice  murmurs  'twixt  the  blossomed  vines 

Of  Men,  of  that  machine  supplied  by  thought 

To  compass  self-perception  with,  he  sought 

By  forcing  half  himself — an  insane  pulse 

Of  a  god's  blood,  on  clay  it  could  convulse, 

Never  transmute  —  on  human  sights  and  sounds, 

To  watch  the  other  half  with ;  irksome  bounds 

It  ebbs  from  to  its  source,  a  fountain  sealed 

Forever.     Better  sure  be  unrevealed 

Than  part-revealed :  Sordello  well  or  ill 

Is  finished  :  then  what  further  use  of  Will, 

A  point  in  the  prime  idea  not  realized, 

An  oversight  ?  inordinately  prized, 

No  less,  and  pampered  with  enough  of  each 

Delight  to  prove  the  whole  above  its  reach. 

"  To  need  become  all  natures,  yet  retain 

The  law  of  my  own  nature  - —  to  remain 

Myself,  yet  yearn  ...  as  if  that  chestnut,  think, 

Should  yearn  for  this  first  larch-bloom  crisp  and  pink, 

Or  those  pale  flagrant  tears  where  zephyrs  stanch 

March  wounds  along  the  fretted  pine-tree  branch ! 

Will  and  the  means  to  show  will,  great  and  small, 

Material,  spiritual,  —  abjure  them  all 

Save  any  so  distinct,  they  may  be  left 

To  amuse,  not  tempt  become  !  and,  thus  bereft, 

Just  as  I  first  was  fashioned  would  I  be  ! 

Nor,  Moon,  is  it  Apollo  now,  but  me 

Thou  visitest  to  comfort  and  befriend  ! 

Swim  thou  into  my  heart,  and  there  an  end, 


—  WAS    FOUND    AND    IS    LOST.  77 

Since  I  possess  thee  !  —  nay,  thus  shut  mine  eyes 
And  know,  quite  know,  by  this  heart's  fall  and  rise, 
When  thou  dost  bury  thee  in  clouds,  and  when 
Out-standest :  wherefore  practise  upon  men 
To  make  that  plainer  to  myself?" 

Slide  here 

Over  a  sweet  and  solitary  year 
"Wasted  :  or  simply  notice  change  in  him  — 
How  eyes,  bright  with  exploring  once,  grew  dim 
And  satiate  with  receiving.     Some  distress 
Was  caused,  too,  by  a  sort  of  consciousness 
Under  the  imbecility,  —  naught  kept 
That  down ;  he  slept,  but  was  aware  he  slept, 
So,  frustrated :  as  who  brainsick  made  pact 
Erst  with  the  overhanging  cataract 
To  deafen  him,  yet  still  distinguished  slow 
His  own  blood's  measured  clicking  at  his  brow. 

To  finish.     One  declining  Autumn  day  — 
Few  birds  about  the  heaven  chill  and  gray, 
No  wind  that  cared  trouble  the  tacit  woods  — 
He  sauntered  home  complacently,  their  moods 
According,  his  and  Nature's.     Every  spark 
Of  Mantua  life  was  trodden  out ;  so  dark 
The  embers,  that  the  Troubadour,  who  sung 
Hundreds  of  songs,  forgot,  its  trick  his  tongue, 
Its  craft  his  brain,  how  either  brought  to  pass 
Singing  at  all ;  that  faculty  might  class 
With  any  of  Apollo's  now.     The  year 
Began  to  find  its  early  promise  sere 


78    BUT   NATURE   IS    ONE    THING,   MAN   ANOTHER 

As  well.     Thus  beauty  vanishes  ;  thus  stone 

Outlingers  flesh :  Nature's  and  his  youth  gone, 

They  left  the  world  to  you,  and  wished  you  joy. 

When,  stopping  his  benevolent  employ, 

A  presage  shuddered  through  the  welkin ;  harsh 

The  earth's  remonstrance  followed.     'T  was  the  marsh 

Gone  of  a  sudden.     Mincio,  in  its  place, 

Laughed,  a  broad  water,  in  next  morning's  face, 

And,  where  the  mists  broke  up  immense  and  white 

I'  the  steady  wind,  burned  like  a  spilth  of  light 

Out  of  the  crashing  of  a  myriad  stars. 

And  here  was  Nature,  bound  by  the  same  bars 

Of  fate  with  him ! 

"  No !  youth  once  gone  is  gone  : 
Deeds  let  escape  are  never  to  be  done. 
Leaf-fall  and  grass-spring  for  the  year ;  for  us  — 
Oh  forfeit  I  unalterably  thus 
My  chance  ?  nor  two  lives  wait  me,  this  to  spend 
Learning  save  that  ?     Nature  has  time  to  mend 
Mistake,  she  knows  occasion  will  recur  — 
Landslip  or  seabreach,  how  affects  it  her 
With  her  magnificent  resources  ?  —  I 
Must  perish  once  and  perish  utterly ! 
Not  any  strollings  now  at  even-close 
Down  the  field-path,  Sordello !  by  thorn-rows 
Alive  with  lamp-flies,  swimming  spots  of  fire 
And  dew,  outlining  the  black  cypress'  spire 
She  waits  you  at,  Elys,  who  heard  you  first 
Woo  her,  the  snow-month  through,  but  ere  she  durst 


HAVING   MULTIFARIOUS    SYMPATHIES,  79 

Answer  't  was  April !  Linden-flower-time-long 
Her  eyes  were  on  the  ground ;  't  is  July,  strong 
Now ;  and  because  white  dust-clouds  overwhelm 
The  woodside,  here  or  by  the  village  elm 
That  holds  the  moon,  she  meets  you,  somewhat  pale, 
But  letting  you  lift  up  her  coarse  flax  veil 
'And  whisper  (the  damp  little  hand  in  yours) 
Of  love,  heart's  love,  your  heart's  love  that  endures 
Till  death.     Tush !     No  mad  mixing  with  the  rout 
Of  haggard  ribalds  wandering  about 
The  hot  torchlit  wine-scented  island-house 
Where  Friedrich  holds  his  wickedest  carouse, 
Parading,  —  to  the  gay  Palermitans, 
Soft  Messinese,  dusk  Saracenic  clans 
Nuocera  holds,  —  those  tall  grave  dazzling  Norse, 
High-cheeked,  lank-haired,  toothed  whiter  than  the  morse, 
Queens  of  the  caves  of  jet  stalactites, 
He  sent  his  barks  to  fetch  through  icy  seas, 
The  blind  night  seas  without  a  saving  star, 
And  here  in  snowy  birdskin  robes  they  are, 
Sordello  !  —  here,  mollitious  alcoves  gilt 
Superb  as  Byzant  domes  that  devils  built ! 
—  Ah,  Byzant,  there  again !  no  chance  to  go 
Ever  like  august  pleasant  Dandolo, 
Worshipping  hearts  about  him  for  a  wall, 
Conducted,  blind  eyes,  hundred  years  and  all, 
Through  vanquished  Byzant  where  friends  note  for  him 
What  pillar,  marble  massive,  sardius  slim, 
'T  were  fittest  he  transport  to  Venice'  Square  — 


80        HE    MAY   NEITHER   RENOUNCE   NOR   SATISFY; 

Flattered  and  promised  life  to  touch  them  there 

Soon,  by  his  fervid  sons  of  senators ! 

No  more  lifes,  deaths,  loves,  hatreds,  peaces,  wars  — 

Ah,  fragments  of  a  whole  ordained  to  be ! 

Points  in  the  life  I  waited  !  what  are  ye 

But  roundels  of  a  ladder  which  appeared 

Awhile  the  very  platform  it  was  reared 

To  lift  me  on  ?  —  that  happiness  I  find 

Proofs  of  my  faith  in,  even  in  the  blind 

Instinct  which  bade  forego  you  all  unless 

Ye  led  me  past  yourselves.     Ay,  happiness 

Awaited  me ;  the  way  life  should  be  used 

Was  to  acquire,  and  deeds  like  you  conduced 

To  teach  it  by  a  self-revealment,  deemed 

The  very  use,  so  long !     Whatever  seemed 

Progress  to  that,  was  pleasure ;  aught  that  stayed 

My  reaching  it  —  no  pleasure.     I  have  laid 

The  ladder  down ;  I  climb  not ;  still,  aloft 

The  platform  stretches !     Blisses  strong  and  soft, 

I  dared  not  entertain,  elude  me ;  yet 

Never  of  what  they  promised  could  I  get 

A  glimpse  till  now !     The  common  sort,  the  crowd 

Exist,  perceive  ;  with  Being  are  endowed, 

However  slight,  distinct  from  what  they  See, 

However  bounded :  Happiness  must  be, 

To  feed  the  first  by  gleanings  from  the  last, 

Attain  its  qualities,  and  slow  or  fast 

Become  what  they  behold  ;  such  peace-in-strife 

By  transmutation,  is  the  Use  of  Life, 

The  Alien  turning  Native  to  the  soul 


IN   THE   PROCESS    TO    WHICH    IS    PLEASURE,  81 

Or  body  —  which  instructs  me ;  I  am  whole 

There  and  demand  a  Palma ;  had  the  world 

Been  from  my  soul  to  a  like  distance  hurled, 

'T  were  Happiness  to  make  it  one  with  me  — - 

Whereas  I  must,  ere  I  begin  to  Be, 

Include  a  world,  in  flesh,  I  comprehend 

In  spirit  now ;  and  this  done,  what 's  to  blend 

With  ?     Naught  is  Alien  in  the  world  —  my  Will 

Owns  all  already ;  yet  can  turn  it  still 

Less  Native,  since  my  Means  to  corresp&nd 

With  Will  are  so  unworthy,  't  was  my  bond 

To  tread  the  very  joys  that  tantalize 

Most  now,  into  a  grave,  never  to  rise. 

I  die  then  !     Will  the  rest  agree  to  die  ? 

Next  Age  or  no  ?     Shall  its  Bordello  try 

Clew  after  clew,  and  catch  at  last  the  clew 

I  miss  ?  —  that 's  underneath  my  finger  too, 

Twice,  thrice  a  day,  perhaps,  —  some  yearning  traced 

Deeper,  some  petty  consequence  embraced 

Closer  !     Why  fled  I  Mantua,  then  ?  —  complained 

So  much  my  Will  was  fettered,  yet  remained 

Content  within  a  tether  half  the  range 

I  could  assign  it  ?  —  able  to  exchange 

My  ignorance  (I  felt)  for  knowledge,  and 

Idle  because  I  could  thus  understand  — 

Could  e'en  have  penetrated  to  its  core 

Our  mortal  mystery,  and  yet  forbore, 

Preferred  elaborating  in  the  dark 

My  casual  stuff,  by  any  wretched  spark 

4*  P 


82  WHILE   RENUNCIATION   INSURES    DESPAIR. 

Born  of  my  predecessors,  though  one  stroke 

Of  mine  had  brought  the  flame  forth  !     Mantua's  yoke, 

My  minstrel's-trade,  was  to  behold  mankind,  — 

My  own  concernment — just  to  bring  my  mind 

Behold,  just  extricate,  for  my  acquist, 

Each  object  suffered  stifle  in  the  mist 

Which  hazard,  use  and  blindness  could  impose 

In  their  relation  to  myself." 

He  rose. 

The  level  wind  carried  above  the  firs 
Clouds,  the  irrevocable  travellers, 
Onward. 

"  Pushed  thus  into  a  drowsy  copse, 
Arms  twine  about  my  neck,  each  eyelid  drops 
Under  a  humid  finger  ;  while  there  fleets, 
Outside  the  screen,  a  pageant  time  repeats 
Never  again !     To  be  deposed  —  immured 
Clandestinely  —  still  petted,  still  assured 
To  govern  were  fatiguing  work  —  the  Sight 
Fleeting  meanwhile  !     'T  is  noontide  :  wreak  ere  night 
Somehow  my  will  upon  it,  rather  !     Slake 
This  thirst  somehow,  the  poorest  impress  take 
That  serves  !     A  blasted  bud  displays  you,  torn, 
1  •"aint  rudiments  of  the  full  flower  unborn  ; 
But  who  divines  what  glory  coats  o'erclasp 
Of  the  bulb  dormant  in  the  mummy's  grasp 
Taurello  sent "... 

"  Taurello  ?     Palma  sent 
Your  Trouvere,"  (Naddo  interposing  leant 


THERE    IS    YET    A    WAY    OF    ESCAPING    THIS  ;         83 

Over  the  lost  bard's  shoulder)  —  "  and,  believe, 

You  cannot  more  reluctantly  receive 

Than  I  pronounce  her  message :  we  depart 

Together.     What  avail  a  poet's  heart 

Verona's  pomps  and  gauds  ?  five  blades  of  grass 

Suffice  him.     News  ?     Why,  where  your  marish  was, 

On  its  mud-banks  smoke  fast  rises  after  smoke 

I'  the  valley,  like  a  spout  of  hell  new-broke. 

O,  the  world's  tidings  !  small  your  thanks,  I  guess, 

For  them.     The  father  of  our  Patroness, 

Has  played  Taurello  an  astounding  trick, 

Parts  between  Ecelin  and  Alberic 

His  wealth  and  goes  into  a  convent :  both 

Wed  Guelfs :  the  Count  and  Palma  plighted  troth 

A  week  since  at  Verona :  and  they  want 

You  doubtless  to  contrive  the  marriage-chant 

Ere  Richard  storms  Ferrara."     Here  was  told 

The  tale  from  the  beginning  —  how,  made  bold 

By  Salinguerra's  absence,  Guelfs  had  burned 

And  pillaged  till  he  unawares  returned 

To  take  revenge :  how  Azzo  and  his  friend 

Were  doing  their  endeavor,  how  the  end 

Of  the  siege  was  nigh,  and  how  the  Count,  released 

From  further  care,  would  with  his  marriage-feast 

Inaugurate  a  new  and  better  rule, 

Absorbing  thus  Romano. 

"  Shall  I  school 

My  master,"  added  Naddo,  "  and  suggest 
How  you  may  clothe  in  a  poetic  vest 


84     WHICH   HE   NOW   TAKES    BY    OBEYING   PALMA : 

These  doings,  at  Verona  ?     Your  response 

To  Palma  !     Wherefore  jest  ?     '  Depart  at  once  •? ' 

A  good  resolve  !     In  truth,  I  hardly  hoped 

So  prompt  an  acquiescence.     Have  you  groped 

Out  wisdom  in  the  wilds  here  ?  —  Thoughts  may  be 

Over-poetical  for  poetry. 

Pearl-white,  you  poets  liken  Palma's  neck ; 

And  yet  what  spoils  an  orient  like  some  speck 

Of  genuine  white,  turning  its  own  white  gray  ? 

You  take  me  ?     Curse  the  cicale  ! " 

One  more  day. 

One  eve  —  appears  Verona  !     Many  a  group, 
(You  mind)  instructed  of  the  osprey's  swoop 
On  lynx  and  ounce,  was  gathering  —  Christendom 
Sure  to  receive,  whate'er  the  end  was,  from 
The  evening's  purpose  cheer  or  detriment, 
Since  Friedrich  only  waited  some  event 
Like  this,  of  Ghibellins  establishing 
Themselves  within  Ferrara,  ere,  as  King 
Of  Lombardy,  he  'd  glad  descend  there,  wage 
Old  warfare  with  the  Pontiff,  disengage 
His  barons  from  the  burghers,  and  restore 
The  rule  of  Charlemagne,  broken  of  yore 
By  Hildebrand. 

In  the  palace,  each  by  each, 
Sordello  sat  and  Palma :  little  speech 
At  first  in  that  dim  closet,  face  with  face 
(Despite  the  tumult  in  the  market-place) 
Exchanging  quick  low  laughters :  now  would  rush 


WHO    THEREUPON   BECOMES    HIS    ASSOCIATE,        85 

Word  upon  word  to  meet  a  sudden  flush, 

A  look  left  off,  a  shifting  lips'  surmise  — 

But  for  the  most  part  their  two  histories 

Ran  best  thro'  the  locked  fingers  and  linked  arms. 

And  so  the  night  flew  on  with  its  alarms 

Till  in  burst  one  of  Palma's  retinue  ; 

"  Now,  Lady  !  "  gasped  he.     Then  arose  the  two 

And  leaned  into  Verona's  air,  dead-still. 

A  balcony  lay  black  beneath  until 

Out,  'mid  a  gush  of  torchfire,  gray-haired  men 

Came  on  it  and  harangued  the  people  :  then 

Sea-like  that  people  surging  to  and  fro 

Shouted,  "  Hale  forth  the  Carroch  —  trumpets,  ho, 

A  flourish  !  run  it  in  the  ancient  grooves  — 

Back  from  the  bell !     Hammer  !  that  whom  behooves 

May  hear  the  League  is  up  !     Peal !  learn  who  list, 

Verona  means  not  be  the  first  break  tryst 

To-morrow  with  the  League  ! " 

Enough.     Now  turn  — 
Over  the  eastern  cypresses :  discern  — 
Is  any  beacon  set  a-glimmer  ? 

Rang 

The  air  with  shouts  that  overpowered  the  clang 
Of  the  incessant  carroch,  even  :  "  Haste  — 
The  Candle  's  at  the  gateway  !  ere  it  waste, 
Each  soldier  stand  beside  it,  armed  to  march 
"With  Tiso  Sampier  through  the  eastern  arch  ! " 
Ferrara  's  succored,  Palma  ! 

Once  again 


80       AS    HER    OWN    HISTORY    WILL    ACCOUNT   FOR, 

They  sat  together ;  some  strange  thing  in  train 

To  say,  so  difficult  was  Palma's  place 

In  taking,  with  a  coy  fastidious  grace 

Like  the  bird's  flutter  ere  it  fix  and  feed. 

But  when  she  felt  she  held  her  friend  indeed 

Safe,  she  threw  back  her  curls,  began  implant 

Her  lessons ;  telling  of  another  want 

Goito's  quiet  nourished  than  his  own ; 

Palma  —  to  serve,  as  him  —  be  served,  alone 

Importing ;  Agnes'  milk  so  neutralized 

The  blood  of  Ecelin.     Nor  be  surprised 

If,  while  Sordello  fain  had  captive  led 

Nature,  in  dream  was  Palma  wholly  subjected 

To  some  out-soul,  which  dawned  not  though  she  pined 

Delaying  till  its  advent,  heart  and  mind, 

Their  life.     "  How  dared  I  let  expand  the  force 

Within  me,  till  some  out-soul,  whose  resource 

It  grew  for,  should  direct  it  ?     Every  law 

Of  life,  its  every  fitness,  every  flaw, 

Must  One  determine  whose  corporeal  shape 

Would  be  no  other  than  the  prime  escape 

And  revelation  to  me  of  a  Will 

Orb-like  o'ershrouded  and  inscrutable 

Above,  save  at  the  point  which,  I  should  know, 

Shone  that  myself,  my  powers,  might  overflow  ' 

So  far,  so  much ;  as  now  it  signified 

Which  earthly  shape  it  henceforth  chose  my  guide, 

Whose  mortal  lip  selected  to  declare 

Its  oracles,  what  fleshly  garb  would  wear ; 


A   REVERSE    TO,    AND    COMPLETION    OF,   HIS.     87 

—  The  first  of  intimations,  whom  to  love ; 

The  next,  how  love  him.     Seemed  that  orb,  above 

The  castle-covert  and  the  mountain-close, 

Slow  in  appearing,  —  if  beneath  it  rose 

Cravings,  aversions,  —  did  our  green  precinct 

Take  pride  in  me,  at  unawares  distinct 

With  this  or  that  endowment,  —  how,  represt 

At  once,  such  jetting  power  shrunk  to  the  rest ! 

Was  I  to  have  a  chance  touch  spoil  me,  leave 

My  spirit  thence  unfitted  to  receive 

The  consummating  spell  ?  —  that  spell  so  near 

Moreover !     *  Waits  he  not  the  waking  year  ? 

His  almond-blossoms  must  be  honey-ripe 

By  this  ;  to  welcome  him,  fresh  runnels  stripe 

The  thawed  ravines ;  because  of  him,  the  wind 

Walks  like  a  herald.   '  I  shall  surely  find 

Him  now ! ' 

And  chief,  that  earnest  April  morn 
Of  Richard's  Love-court,  was  it  time,  so  worn 
And  white  my  cheek,  so  idly  my  blood  beat, 
Sitting  that  morn  beside  the  Lady's  feet 
And  saying  as  she  prompted  ;  till  outburst 
One  face  from  all  the  faces  —  not  then  first 
I  knew  it ;  where  in  maple  chamber  glooms, 
Crowned  with  what  sanguine -heart  pomegranate  blooms 
Advanced  it  ever  ?     Men's  acknowledgment 
Sanctioned  my  own :  't  was  taken,  Palma's  bent,  — 
Sordello,  accepted. 

And  the  Tuscan  dumb 


88  HOW    SHE    EVER    ASPIRED    FOR    HIS    SAKE, 

Sat  scheming,  scheming.     Ecelin  would  come 

Gaunt,  scared,  <  Cesano  baffles  me,'  he  'd  say : 

*  Better  I  fought  it  out,  my  father's  way ! 

Strangle  Ferrara  in  its  drowning  flats, 

And  you  and  your  Taurello  yonder  —  what 's 

Romano's  business  there  ? '     An  hour's  concern 

To  cure  the  fro  ward  Chief!  — induced  return 

Much  heartened  from  those  overmeaning  eyes, 

Wound  up  to  persevere,  —  his  enterprise 

Marked  out  anew,  its  exigent  of  wit 

Apportioned,  —  she  at  liberty  to  sit 

And  scheme  against  the  next  emergence,  I  — 

To  covet  her  Taurello-sprite,  made  fly 

Or  fold  the  wing  —  to  con  your  horoscope 

For  leave  command  those  steely  shafts  shoot  ope, 

Or  straight  assuage  their  blinding  eagerness 

To  blank  smooth  snow.     What  semblance  of  success 

To  any  of  my  plans  for  making  you 

Mine  and  Romano's  ?     Break  the  first  wall  through, 

Tread  o'er  the  ruins  of  the  Chief,  supplant 

His  sons  beside,  still,  vainest  were  the  vaunt : 

There,  Salinguerra  would  obstruct  me  sheer, 

And  the  insuperable  Tuscan,  here, 

Stayed  me !     But  one  wild  eve  that  Lady  died 

In  her  lone  chamber :  only  I  beside  : 

Taurello  far  at  Naples,  and  my  sire 

At  Padua,  Ecelin  away  in  ire 

With  Alberic.     She  held  me  thus  —  a  clutch 

To  make  our  spirits  as  our  bodies  touch  — 


CIRCUMSTANCES    HELPING    OR   HINDERING.          89 

And  so  began  flinging  the  Past  up,  heaps 
Of  uncouth  treasure  from  their  sunless  sleeps 
Within  her  soul ;  deeds  rose  along  with  dreams, 
Fragments  of  many  miserable  schemes, 
Secrets,  more  secrets,  then  —  no,  not  the  last  — 
'Mongst  others,  like  a  casual  trick  o'  the  Past, 
How  ...  ay,  she  told  me,  gathering  up  her  face 

—  All  left  of  it,  into  one  arch-grimace 
To  die  with  .  .  . 

Friend,  't  is  gone  !  but  not  the  fear 
Of  that  fell  laughing,  heard  as  now  I  hear. 
Nor  faltered  voice,  nor  seemed  her  heart  grow  weak, 
When  i'  the  midst  abrupt  she  ceased  to  speak 

—  Dead,  as  to  serve  a  purpose,  mark !  —  for  in 
Rushed  o'  the  very  instant  Ecelin 

(How  summoned,  who  divines  ?)  —  looking  as  if 

He  understood  why  Adelaide  lay  stiff 

Already  in  my  arms ;  for,  '  Girl,  how  must 

I  manage  Este  in  the  matter  thrust 

Upon  me,  how  unravel  your  bad  coil  ?  — 

Since '  (he  declared)  i  't  is  on  your  brow  —  a  soil 

Like  hers,  there ! '  then  in  the  same  breath,  '  he  lacked 

No  counsel  after  all,  had  signed  no  pact 

With  devils,  nor  was  treason  here  or  there, 

Goito  or  Vicenza,  his  affair  : 

He  buried  it  in  Adelaide's  deep  grave, 

Would  begin  life  afresh,  now,  —  would  not  slave 

For  any  Friedrich's  nor  Taurello's  sake  ! 

What  booted  him  to  meddle  or  to  make 


90         HOW    SUCCESS    AT    LAST    SEEMED    POSSIBLE, 

In  Lombardy  ? '     And  afterward  I  knew 
The  meaning  of  his  promise  to  undo 
All  she  had  done  —  why  marriages  were  made, 
New  friendships  entered  on,  old  followers  paid 
"With  curses  for  their  pains,  —  new  friends'  amaze 
At  height,  when,  passing  out  by  Gate  St.  Blaise, 
He  stopped  short  in  Vicenza,  bent  his  head 
Over  a  friar's  neck,  —  'had  vowed,'  he  said, 
'  Long  since,  nigh  thirty  years,  because  his  wife 
And  child  were  saved  there,  to  bestow  his  life 
On  God,  his  gettings  on  the  Church.' 

Exiled 

Within  Goito,  still  one  dream  beguiled 
My  days  and  nights ;  't  was  found,  the  orb  I  sought 
To  serve,  those  glimpses  came  of  Fomalhaut, 
No  other :  but  how  serve  it  ?  —  authorize 
You  and  Romano  mingle  destinies  ? 
And  straight  Romano's  angel  stood  beside 
Me  who  had  else  been  Boniface's  bride, 
For  Salinguerra  't  was,  with  neck  low  bent, 
And  voice  lightened  to  music,  (as  he  meant 
To  learn  not  teach  me,)  who  withdrew  the  pall 
From  the  dead  Past  and  straight  revived  it  all, 
Making  me  see  how  first  Romano  waxed, 
Wherefore  he  waned  now,  why,  if  I  relaxed 
My  grasp  (even  I !)  would  drop  a  thing  effete, 
Frayed  by  itself,  unequal  to  complete 
Its  course,  and  counting  every  step  astray 
A  gain  so  much.     Romano,  every  way 


BY    THE    INTERVENTION    OF    SALINGTJERRA  :          91 

Stable,  a  Lombard  House  now  —  why  start  back 

Into  the  ver  j  outset  of  its  track  ? 

This  patching-principle  which  late  allied 

Our  House  with  other  Houses  —  what  beside 

Concerned  the  apparition,  the  first  Knight 

Who  followed  Conrad  hither  in  such  plight 

His  utmost  wealth  was  summed  in  his  one  steed  ? 

For  Ecelo,  that  prowler,  was  decreed 

A  task,  in  the  beginning  hazardous 

To  him  as  ever  task  can  be  to  us ; 

But  did  the  weather-beaten  thief  despair 

When  first  our  crystal  cincture  of  warm  air,  — 

That  binds  the  Trevisan,  —  as  its  spice-belt 

(Crusaders  say)  the  tract  where  Jesus  dwelt, — 

Furtive  he  pierced,  and  Este  was  to  face  — 

Despaired  Saponian  strength  of  Lombard  grace  ? 

Tried  he  at  making  surer  aught  made  sure, 

Maturing  what  already  was  mature  ? 

No ;  his  heart  prompted  Ecelo,  <  Confront 

Este,  inspect  yourself.     What 's  nature  ?     Wont. 

Discard  three-parts  your  nature,  and  adopt 

The  rest  as  an  advantage ! '     Old  strength  propped 

The  man  who  first  grew  Podesta  among 

The  Vincentines,  no  less  than,  while  there  sprung 

His  palace  up  in  Padua  like  a  threat, 

Their  noblest  spied  a  grace,  unnoticed  yet 

In  Conrad's  crew.     Thus  far  the  object  gained, 

Romano  was  established  —  has  remained  — 

For  are  you  not  Italian,  truly  peers 


92        WHO    REMEDIED    ILL    WROUGHT   BY   ECELIN, 

With  Este  ?     *  Azzo '  better  soothes  our  ears 

Than  *  Alberic  ? '  or  is  this  lion's-crine 

From  over-mounts  '  (this  yellow  hair  of  mine) 

'  So  weak  a  .graft  on  Agnes  Este's  stock  ? ' 

(Thus  went  he  on  with  something  of  a  mock) 

'  Wherefore  recoil,  then,  from  the  very  fate 

Conceded  you,  refuse  to  imitate 

Your  model  farther  ?     Este  long  since  left 

Being  mere  Este  :  as  a  blade  its  heft, 

Este  required  the  Pope  to  further  him : 

And  you,  the  Kaiser  —  whom  your  father's  whim 

Foregoes  or,  better,  never  shall  forego 

If  Palma  dare  pursue  what  Ecelo 

Commenced,  but  Ecelin  desists  from :  just 

As  Adelaide  of  Susa  could  intrust 

Her  donative,  —  her  Piedmont  given  the  Pope, 

Her  Alpine-pass  for  him  to  shut  or  ope 

'Twixt  France  and  Italy,  —  to  the  superb 

Matilda's  perfecting,  —  so,  lest  aught  curb 

Our  Adelaide's  great  counter-project  for 

Giving  her  Trentine  to  the  Emperor 

With  passage  here  from  Germany,  —  shall  you 

Take  it,  —  my  slender  plodding  talent,  too ! ' 

—  Urged  me  Taurello  with  his  half-smile. 

He 

As  Patron  of  the  scattered  family 
Conveyed  me  to  his  Mantua,  kept  in  bruit 
Azzo's  alliances  and  Richard's  suit 
Until,  the  Kaiser  excommunicate, 


AND  HAD  A  PROJECT  FOR  HER  OWN  GLORY,   93 

1  Nothing  remains,'  Taurello  said,  '  but  wait 
Some  rash  procedure :  Palma  was  the  link, 
As  Agnes'  child,  between  us,  and  they  shrink 
From  losing  Palma :  judge  if  we  advance, 
Your  father's  method,  your  inheritance ! ' 
That  day  I  was  bethrothed  to  Boniface 
At  Padua  by  Taurello's  self,  took  place 
The  outrage  of  the  Ferrarese :  again, 
That  day  I  sought  Verona  with  the  train 
Agreeed  for,  —  by  Taurello's  policy 
Convicting  Eichard  of  the  fault,  since  we 
Were  present  to  annul  or  to  confirm,  — 
Richard,  whose  patience  had  outstayed  its  term, 
Quitted  Verona  for  the  siege. 

And  now 

What  glory  may  engird  Bordello's  brow 
Through  this  ?     A  month  since  at  Oliero  slunk 
All  that  was  Ecelin  into  a  monk ; 
But  how  could  Salinguerra  so  forget 
His  liege  of  thirty  years  as  grudge  even  yet 
One  effort  to  recover  him  ?     He  sent 
Forthwith  the  tidings  of  this  last  event 
To  Ecelin  —  declared  that  he,  despite 
The  recent  folly,  recognized  his  right 
To  order  Salinguerra :  '  Should  he  wring 
Its  uttermost  advantage  out,  or  fling 
This  chance  away  ?     Or  were  his  sons  now  Head 
Of  the  House  ? '     Through  me  Taurello's  missive  sped ; 
My  father's  answer  will  by  me  return. 


94     WHICH    SHE    WOULD    CHANGE    TO    BORDELLO'S. 

Behold !  '  For  him/  he  writes,  '  no  more  concern 
With  strife  than,  for  his  children,  with  fresh  plots 
Of  Friedrich.     Old  engagements  out  he  blots 
For  aye :  Taurello  shall  no  more  subserve, 
Nor  Ecelin  impose.'     Lest  this  unnerve 
Taurello  at  this  juncture,  slack  his  grip 
Of  Kichard,  suffer  the  occasion  slip,  — 
I,  in  his  sons'  default  (who,  mating  with 
Este,  forsake  Romano  as  the  frith 
Its  mainsea  for  the  firmland,  sea  makes  head 
Against)  I  stand,  Romano,  — •  in  their  stead 
Assume  the  station  they  desert,  and  give 
Still,  as  the  Kaiser's  representative, 
Taurello  license  he  demands.    Midnight  — 
Morning  —  by  noon  to-morrow,  making  light 
Of  the  League's  issue,  we,  in  some  gay  weed 
Like  yours,  disguised  together,  may  precede 
The  arbitrators  to  Ferrara :  reach 
Him,  let  Taurello's  noble  accents  teach 
The  rest !  then  say  if  I  have  misconceived 
Your  destiny,  too  readily  believed 
The  Kaiser's  cause  your  own ! " 

And  Palma  's  fled. 

Though  no  affirmative  disturbs  the  head, 
A  dying  lamp-flame  sinks  and  rises  o'er, 
Like  the  alighted  planet  Pollux  wore, 
Until,  morn  breaking,  he  resolves  to  be 
Gate-vein  of  this  heart's  blood  of  Lombardy, 
Soul  of  this  body  —  to  wield  this  aggregate 


THUS    THEN,   HAVING    COMPLETED    A    CIRCLE,       95 

Of  souls  and  bodies,  and  so  conquer  fate 

Though  he  should  live  —  a  centre  of  disgust 

Even  —  apart,  core  of  the  outward  crust 

He  vivified,  assimilated.     Thus 

I  bring  Bordello  to  the  rapturous 

Exclaim  at  the  crowd's  cry,  because  one  round 

Of  life  was  quite  accomplished ;  and  he  found 

Not  only  that  a  soul,  whate'er  its  might, 

Is  insufficient  to  its  own  delight, 

Both  in  corporeal  organs  and  in  skill 

By  means  of  such  to  body  forth  its  Will  — 

And,  after,  insufficient  to  apprise 

Men  of  that  Will,  oblige  them  recognize 

The  Hid  by  the  Revealed  —  but  that,  the  last 

Nor  lightest  of  the  struggles  overpast, 

His  Will,  bade  abdicate,  which  would  not  void 

The  throne,  might  sit  there,  suffer  be  enjoyed 

Mankind,  a  varied  and  divine  array 

Incapable  of  homage,  the  first  way, 

Nor  fit  to  render  incidentally 

Tribute  connived  at,  taken  by  the  by, 

In  joys.     If  thus  with  warrant  to  rescind 

The  ignominious  exile  of  mankind  — 

Whose  proper  service,  ascertained  intact 

As  yet,  (to  be^byjii^themsje^ 

Not  watch  Sorddlo,ajcJjjig..£a.cli_of  thern) 

Was  to  secure  —  if  the  true  diadem 

Seemed  imminent  while  our  Sordello  drank 

The  wisdom  of  that  golden  Palma,  —  thank 


96      THE  POET  MAY  PAUSE  AND  BREATHE, 

Verona's  Lady  in  her  Citadel 

Founded  by  Gaulish  Brennus,  legends  tell : 

And  truly  when  she  left  him,  the  sun  reared 

A  head  like  the  first  clamberer's  that  peered 

A-top  the  Capitol,  his  face  on  flame 

With  triumph,  triumphing  till  Manlius  came. 

Nor  slight  too  much  my  rhymes  —  that  spring,  dispread, 

Dispart,  disperse,  lingering  overhead 

Like  an  escape  of  angels !     Rather  say, 

My  transcendental  platan !  mounting  gay 

(An  archimage  so  courts  a  novice-queen) 

With  tremulous  silvered  trunk,  whence  branches  sheen 

Laugh  out,  thick-foliaged  next,  a-shiver  soon 

With  colored  buds,  then  glowing  like  the  moon 

One  mild  flame,  —  last  a  pause,  a  burst,  and  all 

Her  ivory  limbs  are  smothered  by  a  fall, 

Bloom-flinders  and  fruit-sparkles  and  leaf-dust, 

Ending  the  weird  work  prosecuted  just 

For  her  amusement ;  he  decrepit,  stark, 

Dozes ;  her  uncontrolled  delight  may  mark 

Apart  — 

Yet  not  so,  surely  never  so  ! 
Only,  as  good  my  soul  were  suffered  go 
O'er  the  lagune :  forth  fare  thee,  put  aside 
Entrance  thy  synod,  as  a  god  may  glide 
Out  of  the  world  he  fills,  and  leave  it  mute 
For  myriad  ages  as  we  men  compute, 
Returning  into  it  without  a  break 
0'  the  consciousness !     They  sleep,  and  I  awake 
O'er  the  lagune. 


BEING   REALLY   IN   THE   FLESH    AT    VENICE,         97 

Sordello  said  once,  "  Note, 
In  just  such  songs  as  Eglarnor  (say)  wrote 
With  heart  and  soul  and  strength,  for  he  believed 
Himself  achieving  all  to  be  achieved 
By  singer  —  in  such  songs  you  find  alone 
Completeness,  judge  the  song  and  singer  one, 
And  cither's  purpose  answered,  his  in  it 
Or  its  in  him :  while  from  true  works  (to  wit 
Bordello's  dream-performances  that  will 
Be  never  more  than  dreamed)  escapes  there  still 
Some  proof,  the  singer's  proper  life  was  'neath 
The  life  his  song  exhibits,  this  a  sheath 
To  that ;  a  passion  and  a  knowledge  far 
Transcending  these,  majestic  as  they  are, 
Smouldered ;  his  lay  was  but  an  episode 
In  the  bard's  life :  which  evidence  you  owed 
To  some  slight  weariness,  some  looking-off 
Or  start-away.     The  childish  skit  or  scoff 
In  "  Charlemagne,"  (his  poem,  dreamed  divine 
In  every  point  except  one  silly  line 
About  the  restiff  daughters  !)  —  what  may  lurk 
In  that  ?     '  My  life  commenced  before  that  work, 
(Thus  I  interpret  the  significance 
Of  the  bard's  start  aside  and  look  askance) 
'  My  life  continues  after :  on  .1  fare 
With  no  more  stopping,  possibly,  no  care 
To  note  the  undercurrent,  the  why  and  how, 
Where,  when,  of  the  deeper  life,  as  thus  just  now. 
But,  silent,  shall  I  cease  to  live  ?     Alas 

5  G 


98        AND    "WATCHING   HIS    OWN   LIFE    SOMETIMES, 

For  you  !  who  sigh,  '  When  shall  it  come  to  pass 

We  read  that  story  ?     How  will  he  compress 

The  future  gains,  his  life's  true  business, 

Into  the  better  lay  which  —  that  one  flout, 

Howe'er  inopportune  it  be,  lets  out  — 

Engrosses  him  already,  though  professed 

To  meditate  with  us  eternal  rest, 

And  partnership  in  all  his  life  has  found  ? 

'T  is  but  a  sailor's  promise,  weather-bound : 

'  Strike  sail,  slip  cable,  here  the  bark  be  moored 

For  once,  the  awning  stretched,  the  poles  assured ! 

Noontide  above ;  except  the  wave's  crisp  dash, 

Or  buzz  of  colibri,  or  tortoise'  splash, 

The  margin  's  silent :  out  with  every  spoil 

Made  in  our  tracking,  coil  by  mighty  coil, 

This  serpent  of  a  river  to  his  head 

I'  the  midst !     Admire  each  treasure,  as  we  spread 

The  bank,  to  help  us  tell  our  history 

Aright :  give  ear,  endeavor  to  descry 

The  groves  of  giant  rushes,  how  they  grew 

Like  demons'  endlong  tresses  we  sailed  through, 

What  mountains  yawned,  forests  to  give  us  vent 

Opened,  each  doleful  side,  yet  on  we  went 

Till  .  .  .  may  that  beetle  (shake  your  cap)  attest 

The  springing  of  a  land-wind  from  the  West ! ' 

— '  Wherefore  ?     Ah  yes,  you  frolic  it  to-day ! 

To-morrow,  and  the  pageant 's  moved  away 

Down  to  the  poorest  tent-pole :  we  and  you 

Part  company :  no  other  may  pursue 


BECAUSE  IT  IS  PLEASANT  TO  BE  YOUNG,     99 

Eastward  your  voyage,  be  informed  what  fate 
Intends,  if  triumph  or  decline  await 
The  tempter  of  the  everlasting  steppe.' 

I  muse  this  on  a  ruined  palace-step 
At  Venice :  why  should  I  break  off,  nor  sit 
Longer  upon  my  step,  exhaust  the  fit 
England  gave  birth  to  ?     Who 's  adorable 

Enough  reclaim  a no  Sordello's  Will 

Alack !  —  be  queen  to  me  ?     That  Bassanese 
Busied  among  her  smoking  fruit-boats  ?     These 
Perhaps  from  our  delicious  Asolo 
Who  twinkle,  pigeons  o'er  the  portico     . 
Not  prettier,  bind  June  lilies  into  sheaves 
To  deck  the  bridge-side  chapel,  dropping  leaves 
Soiled  by  their  own  loose  gold-meal  ?     Ah,  beneath 
The  cool  arch  stoops  she,  brownest-cheek !     Her  wreath 
Endures  a  month  —  a  half-month  —  if  I  make 
A  queen  of  her,  continue  for  her  sake 
Sordello's  story  ?     Nay,  that  Paduan  girl 
Splashes  with  barer  legs  where  a  live  whirl 
In  the  dead  black  Giudecca  proves  sea-weed 
Drifting  has  sucked  down  three,  four,  all  indeed 
Save  one  pale-red  striped,  pale-blue  turbaned  post 
For  gondolas. 

You  sad  dishevelled  ghost 
That  pluck  at  me  and  point,  are  you  advised 
I  breathe  ?     Let  stay  those  girls  (e'en  her  disguised 
• —  Jewels  in  the  locks  that  love  no  crownet  like 
Their  native  field-buds  and  the  green  wheat  spike, 


100     WOULD    BUT    SUFFERING   HUMANITY   ALLOW ! 

So  fair  !  —  who  left  this  end  of  June's  turmoil, 

Shook  off,  as  might  a  lily  its  gold  soil, 

Pomp,  save  a  foolish  gem  or  two,  and  free 

In  dream,  came  join  the  peasants  o'er  the  sea.) 

Look  they  too  happy,  too  tricked  out  ?     Confess 

There  is  such  niggard  stock  of  happiness 

To  share,  that,  do  one's  uttermost,  dear  wretch, 

One  labors  ineffectually  to  stretch 

It  o'er  you  so  that  mother  and  children,  both 

May  equitably  flaunt  the  sumpter-cloth ! 

Divide  the  robe  yet  farther :  be  content 

"With  seeing  just  a.  score  pre-eminent 

Through  shreds  of  it,  acknowledged  happy  wights, 

Engrossing  what  should  furnish  all,  by  rights  — 

For,  these  in  evidence,  you  clearlier  claim 

A  like  garb  for  the  rest,  —  grace  all,  the  same 

As  these  my  peasants.     I  ask  youth  and  strength 

And  health  for  each  of  you,  not  more  —  at  length 

Grown  wise,  who  asked  at  home  that  the  whole  race 

Might  add  the  spirit's  to  the  body's  grace, 

And  all  be  dizened  out  as  chiefs  and  bards. 

But  in  this  magic  weather  one  discards 

Much  old  requirement  —  Venice  seems  a  type 

Of  Life,  —  'twixt  blue  and  blue  extends,  a  stripe, 

As  Life,  the  somewhat,  hangs  'twixt  naught  and  naught 

'T  is  Venice,  and  't  is  Life  —  as  good  you  sought 

To  spare  me  the  Piazza's  slippery  stone, 

Or  keep  me  to  the  unchoked  canals  alone, 

As  hinder  Life  the  evil  with  the  good 


WHICH   INSTIGATES    TO    TASKS    LIKE    THIS,     101 

Which  make  up  Living,  rightly  understood. 

Only,  do  finish  something !     Peasants  or  queens, 

Take  them,  made  happy  by  whatever  means, 

Parade  them  for  the  common  credit,  vouch 

That  a  luckless  residue,  we  send  to  crouch 

In  corners  out  of  sight,  was  just  as  framed 

For  happiness,  its  portion  might  have  claimed 

As  well,  and  so,  obtaining  it,  had  stalked 

Fastuous  as  any !  —  such  my  project,  balked 

Already  ;  I  hardly  venture  to  adjust 

The  first  rags,  when  you  find  me.     To  mistrust 

Me  !  —  nor  unreasonably.     You,  no  doubt, 

Have  the  true  knack  of  tiring  suitors  out 

With  those  thin  lips  on  tremble,  lashless  eyes 

Inveterately  tear-shot  —  there,  be  wise 

Mistress  of  mine,  there,  there,  as  if  I  meant 

You  insult !     Shall  your  friend  (not  slave)  be  shent 

For  speaking  home  ?     Beside,  care-bit,  erased, 

Broken-up  beauties  ever  took  my  taste 

Supremely,  and  I  love  you  more,  far  more  \      / 

Than  her  I  looked  should  foot  Life's  temple-floor. 

Years  ago,  leagues  at  distance,  when  and  where 

A  whisper  came,  "  Let  others  seek !  - —  thy  care 

Is  found,  thy  life's  provision ;  if  thy  race 

Should  be  thy  mistress,  and  into  one  face 

The  many  faces  crowd  ?  "     Ah,  had  I,  judge, 

Or  no,  your  secret  ?     Rough  apparel  —  grudge 

All  ornaments  save  tag  or  tassel  worn 

To  hint  we  are  not  thoroughly  forlorn  — 


) 

I 


102         AND    DOUBTLESSLY    COMPENSATES    THEM, 

Slouch  bonnet,  unloop  mantle,  careless  go 
Alone  (that 's  saddest  but  it  must  be  so) 
Through  Venice,  sing  now  and  now  glance  aside, 
Aught  desultory  or  undignified,  — 
Then,  ravishingest  lady,  will  you  pass 
Or  not  each  formidable  group,  the  mass 
Before  the  Basilic  (that  feast  gone  by, 
God's  great  day  of  the  Corpus  Domini) 
And,  wistfully  foregoing  proper  men, 
Come  timid  up  to  me  for  alms  ?     And  then 
The  luxury  to  hesitate,  feign  do 
Some  unexampled  grace !  —  when,  whom  but  you 
Dare  I  bestow  your  own  upon  ?     And  here 
Further  before  you  say,  it  is  to  sneer 
I  call  you  ravishing  ;  for  I  regret 
Little  that  she,  whose  early  foot  was  set 
Forth  as  she  'd  plant  it  on  a  pedestal, 
Now,  i'  the  silent  city,  seems  to  fall 
Toward  me  —  no  wreath,  only  a  lip's  unrest 
To  quiet,  surcharged  eyelids  to  be  pressed 
Dry  of  their  tears  upon  my  bosom.     Strange 
Such  sad  chance  should  produce  in  thee  such  change, 
My  love !  warped  souls  and  bodies !  yet  God  spoke 
Of  right-hand,  foot  and  eye  —  selects  our  yoke, 
Sordello,  as  your  poetship  may  find  ! 
,So,  sleep  upon  my  shoulder,  child,  nor  mind 
iTheir  foolish  talk ;  we  '11  manage  reinstate 
"Your  old  worth ;  ask  moreover,  when  they  prate 
Of  evil  men  past  hope,  "  don't  each  contrive, 


AS    THOSE    WHO    DESIST    SHOULD    REMEMBER.     103 

Despite  the  evil  you  abuse,  to  live  ?  — 
Keeping,  each  losel,  through  a  maze  of  lies, 
His  own  conceit  of  truth  ?  to  which  he  hies 
By  obscure  windings,  tortuous,  if  you  will, 
But  to  himself  not  inaccessible ; 
He  sees  truth,  and  his  lies  are  for  the  crowd 
Who  cannot  see  ;  some  fancied  right  allowed 
His  vilest  wrong,  empowered  the  fellow  clutch 
One  pleasure  from  a  multitude  of  such 
Denied  him."     Then  assert,  "  all  men  appear 
To  think  all  better  than  themselves,  by  here 
Trusting  a  crowd  they  wrong ;  but  really,"  say, 
"  All  men  think  all  men  stupider  than  they, 
Since,  save  themselves,  no  other  comprehends 
The  complicated  scheme  to  make  amends 
—  Evil,  the  scheme  by  which,  thro'  Ignorance, 
Good  labors  to  exist."     A  slight  advance,  — 
Merely  to  find  the  sickness  you  die  through, 
And  naught  beside !  but  if  one  can't  eschew 
One's  portion  in  the  common  lot,  at  least 
One  can  avoid  an  ignorance  increased 
Tenfold  by  dealing  out  hint  after  hint 
How  naught  were  like  dispensing  without  stint 
The  water  of  life  —  so  easy  to  dispense 
Beside,  when  one  has  probed  the  centre  whence 
Commotion  's  born  —  could  tell  you  of  it  all ! 
"  —  Meantime,  just  meditate  my  madrigal 
O'  the  mugwort  that  conceals  a  dew-drop  safe ! " 
What,  dullard  ?  we  and  you  in  smothery  chafe, 


104  LET  THE  POET  TAKE  HIS  OWN  PART,  THEN, 

Babes,  baldheads,  stumbled  thus  far  into  Zin 
The  Horrid,  getting  neither  out  nor  in, 
A  hungry  sun  above  us,  sands  that  bung 
Our  throats,  —  each  dromedary  lolls  a  tongue, 
Each  camel  churns  a  sick  and  frothy  chap, 
And  you,  'twixt  tales  of  Potiphar's  mishap, 
And  sonnets  on  the  earliest  ass  that  spoke, 
—  Remark,  you  wonder  any  one  needs  choke 
t  With  founts  about !     Potsherd  him,  Gibeonites ! 
While  awkwardly  enough  your  Moses  smites 
The  rock,  though  he  forego  his  Promised  Land, 
Thereby,  have  Satan  claim  his  carcass,  and 
Figure  as  Metaphysic  Poet ...  ah 
Mark  ye  the  dim  first  oozings  ?     Meribah ! 
Then,  quaffing  at  the  fount  my  courage  gained, 
Recall  —  not  that  I  prompt  ye  —  who  explained  .  .  . 
"  Presumptuous ! "  interrupts  one.     You,  not  I 
'T  is,  brother,  marvel  at  and  magnify 
Such  office :  "  office,"  quotha  ?  can  we  get 
To  the  beginning  of  the  office  yet  ? 
What  do  we  here  ?  simply  experiment 
•   Each  on  the  other's  power  and  its  intent 
When  elsewhere  tasked,  —  if  this  of  mine  were  trucked 
For  yours  to  cither's  good,  —  we  watch  construct, 
In  short,  an  engine  :  with  a  finished  one, 
What  it  can  do,  is  all,  —  naught,  how  'tis  done. 
But  this  of  ours  yet  in  probation,  dusk 
A  kernel  of  strange  wheel  work  through  its  husk 
Grows  into  shape  by  quarters  and  by  halves ; 


SHOULD    ANY    OBJECT   THAT    HE    WAS    DULL      105 

Remark  this  tooth's  spring,  wonder  what  that  valve's 

Fall  bodes,  presume  each  faculty's  device, 

Make  out  each  other  more  or  less  precise  — 

The  scope  of  the  whole  engine  's  to  be  proved ; 

We  die  :  which  means  to  say,  the  whole 's  removed, 

Dismounted  wheel  by  wheel,  this  complex  gin,  — 

To  be  set  up  anew  elsewhere,  begin 

A  task  indeed,  but  with  a  clearer  clime 

Than  the  murk  lodgment  of  our  building-time. 

And  then,  I  grant  you,  it  behooves  forget 

How  't  is  done  • —  all  that  must  amuse  us  yet 

So  long :  and,  while  you  turn  upon  your  heel, 

Pray  that  I  be  not  busy  slitting  steel 

Or  shredding  brass,  camped  on  some  virgin  shore 

Under  a  cluster  of  fresh  stars,  before 

I  name  a  tithe  o'  the  wheels  I  trust  to  do  ! 

So  occupied,  then,  are  we :  hitherto, 

At  present,  and  a  weary  while  to  come, 

The  office  of  ourselves,  —  nor  blind  nor  dumb, 

And  seeing  somewhat  of  man's  state,  —  has  been, 

For  the  worst  of  us,  to  say  they  so  have  seen  ; 

For  the  better,  what  it  was  they  saw ;  the  best 

Impart  the  gift  of  seeing  to  the  rest : 

"  So  that  I  glance,"  says  such  an  one,  "  around, 

And  there  's  no  face  but  I  can  read  profound 

Disclosures  in ;  this  stands  for  hope,  that  —  fear, 

And  for  a  speech,  a  deed  in  proof,  look  here ! 

*  Stoop,  else  the  strings  of  blossom,  where  the  nuts 

O'erarch,  will  blind  thee !  said  I  not  ?  she  shuts 
5* 


106        BESIDE    HIS    SPRIGHTLIER   PREDECESSORS. 

Both  eyes  this  time,  so  close  the  hazels  meet ! 
"^  Thus,  prisoned  in  the  Piombi,  I  repeat 
Events  one  rove  occasioned,  o'er  and  o'er, 
Putting  'twixt  me  and  madness  evermore 
Thy  sweet  shape,  Zanze !  therefore  stoop  ! ' 

1  That 's  truth  ! ' 

(Adjudge  you)  '  the  incarcerated  youth 
Would  say  that ! ' 

1  Youth  ?  Plara  the  bard  ?  Set  down 
That  Plara  spent  his  youth  in  a  grim  town 
Whose  cramped  ill-featured  streets  huddled  about 
The  minster  for  protection,  never  out 
Of  its  black  belfry's  shade  and  its  bells'  roar. 
The  brighter  shone  the  suburb,  —  all  the  more 
Ugly  and  absolute  that  shade's  reproof 
Of  any  chance  escape  of  joy,  —  some  roof, 
Taller  than  they,  allowed  the  rest  detect 
Before  the  sole  permitted  laugh  (suspect 
Who  could,  'twas  meant  for  laughter,  that  ploughed  cheek's 
Repulsive  gleam !)  when  the  sun  stopped  both  peaks 
Of  the  cleft  belfry  like  a  fiery  wedge, 
Then  sunk,  a  hugh  flame  on  its  socket's  edge, 
With  leavings  on  the  gray  glass  oriel-pane 
Ghastly  some  minutes  more.     No  fear  of  rain  — 
The  minster  minded  that !  in  heaps  the  dust 
Lay  everywhere.     This  town,  the  minster's  trust, 
Held  Plara ;  who,  its  denizen,  bade  hail 
In  twice  twelve  sonnets,  Tempe's  dewy  vale.' 
1  Exact  the  town,  the  minster  and  the  street ! ' 


ONE    OUGHT   NOT   BLAME    BUT   PRAISE    THIS;     107 

( As  all  mirth  triumphs,  sadness  means  defeat  : 
Lust  triumphs  and  is  gay,  Love  's  triumphed  o'er 
And  sad :  but  Lucio  'a  sad.     I  said  before, 
Love's  sad,  not  Lucio ;  one  who  loves  may  be 
As  gay  his  love  has  leave  to  hope,  as  he 
Downcast  that  lusts'  desire  escapes  the  springe : 
'T  is  of  the  mood  itself  I  speak,  what  tinge 
Determines  it,  else  colorless,  —  or  mirth, 
Or  melancholy,  as  from  heaven  or  earth.' 

<  Ay,  that 's  the  variation's  gist ! '     Indeed  ? 
Thus  far  advanced  in  safety  then,  proceed  ! 
And  having  seen  too  what  I  saw,  be  bold 
And  next  encounter  what  I  do  behold 
(That 's  sure)  but  bid  you  take  on  trust !     Attack 
The  use  and  purpose  of  such  sights  ?     Alack, 
Not  so  unwisely  does  the  crowd  dispense 
On  Salinguerras  praise  in  preference 
To  the  Bordellos :  men  of  action,  these ! 
Who,  seeing  just  as  little  as  you  please, 
Yet  turn  that  little  to  account,  —  engage 
With,  do  not  gaze  at,  —  carry  on,  a  stage, 
The  work  o'  the  world,  not  merely  make  report 
The  work  existed  ere  their  day !     In  short, 
When  at  some  future  no-time  a  brave  band 
Sees,  using  what  it  sees,  then  shake  my  hand 
In  heaven,  my  brother !     Meanwhile  where  's  the  hurt 
Of  keeping  the  Makers-see  on  the  alert, 
At  whose  defection  mortals  stare  aghast 
As  though  heaven's  bounteous  windows  were  slammed  fast 


108     AT   ALL    EVENTS,   HIS    OWN    AUDIENCE    MAY: 

Incontinent  ?  whereas  all  you,  beneath, 

Should  scowl  at,  curse  them,  bruise  lips,  break  their  teeth 

"Who  ply  the  pullies,  for  neglecting  you  : 

And  therefore  have  I  moulded,  made  anew 

A  Man,  and  give  him  to  be  turned  and  tried, 

Be  angry  with  or  pleased  at.     On  your  side, 

Have  ye  times,  places,  actors  of  your  own  ? 

Try  them  upon  Sordello  when  full-grown, 

And  then  —  ah  then  !     If  Hercules  first  parched 

His  foot  in  Egypt  only  to  be  marched 

A  sacrifice  for  Jove  with  pomp  to  suit, 

What  chance  have  I  ?     The  demigod  was  mute 

Till,  at  the  altar,  where  time  out  of  mind 

Such  guests  became  oblations,  chaplets  twined 

His  forehead  long  enough,  and  he  began 

Slaying  the  slayers,  nor  escaped  a  man. 

Take  not  affront,  my  gentle  audience !  whom 

No  Hercules  shall  make  his  hecatomb, 

Believe,  nor  from  his  brows  your  chaplet  rend  — 

That 's  your  kind  suffrage,  yours,  my  patron-friend, 

Whose  great  verse  blares  unintermittent  on 

Like  your  own  trumpeter  at  Marathon,  — 

You  who,  Platseas  and  Salamis  being  scant, 

Put  up  with  .ZEtna  for  a  stimulant  — 

And  did  well,  I  acknowledged,  as  he  loomed 

Over  the  midland  sea  last  month,  presumed 

Long,  lay  demolished  in  the  blazing  West 

At  eve,  while  towards  him  tilting  cloudlets  prest 

Like  Persian  ships  at  Salamis.     Friend,  wear 


WHAT    IF    THINGS    BRIGHTEN,    WHO    KNOWS?     109 

A  crest  proud  as  desert  while  I  declare 

Had  I  a  flawless  ruby  fit  to  wring 

Tears  of  its  color  from  that  painted  king 

"Who  lost  it,  I  would,  for  that  smile  which  went 

To  my  heart,  fling  it  in  the  sea,  content, 

Wearing  your  verse  in  place,  an  amulet 

Sovereign  against  all  passion,  wear  and  fret ! 

My  English  Eyebright,  if  you  are  not  glad 

That,  as  I  stopped  my  task  awhile,  the  sad 

Disheveled  form,  wherein  I  put  mankind 

To  come  at  times  and  keep  my  pact  in  mind, 

Renewed  me,  —  hear  no  crickets  in  the  hedge, 

Nor  let  a  glowworm  spot  the  river's  edge 

At  home,  and  may  the  summer  showers  gush 

Without  a  warning  from  the  missel  thrush ! 

So,  to  our  business,  now  —  the  fate  of  such 

As  find  our  common  nature  —  overmuch 

Despised  because  restricted  and  unfit 

To  bear  the  burden  they  impose  on  it  — 

Cling  when  they  would  discard  it ;  craving  strength 

To  leap  from  the  allotted  world,  at  length 

They  do  leap,  —  flounder  on  without  a  term, 

Each  a  god's  germ,  doomed  to  remain  a  germ 

In  unexpanded  infancy,  unless  .  .  . 

But  that  'a  the  story  —  dull  enough,  confess ! 

There  might  be  fitter  subjects  to  allure  ; 

Still,  neither  misconceive  my  portraiture 

Nor  undervalue  its  adornments  quaint : 

What  seems  a  fiend  perchance  may  prove  a  saint. 


110    WHEREUPON,    WITH   A    STOKY   TO    THE   POINT, 

Ponder  a  story  ancient  pens  transmit, 

Then  say  if  you  condemn  me  or  acquit. 

John  the  Beloved,  banished  Antioch 

For  Patmos,  bade  collectively  his  flock 

Farewell,  but  set  apart  the  closing  eve 

To  comfort  those  his  exile  most  would  grieve, 

He  knew :  a  touching  spectacle,  that  house 

In  motion  to  receive  him  !     Xanthus'  spouse 

You  missed,  made  panther's  meat  a  month  since ;  but 

Xanthus  himself  (his  nephew  't  was,  they  shut 

'Twixt  boards  and  sawed  asunder)  Polycarp, 

Soft  Charicle,  next  year  no  wheel  could  warp 

To  swear  by  Caesar's  fortune,  with  the  rest 

Were  ranged  ;  thro'  whom  the  gray  disciple  prest, 

Busily  blessing  right  and  left,  just  stopt 

To  pat  one  infant's  curls,  the  hangman  cropt 

Soon  after,  reached  the  portal  —  on  its  hinge 

The  door  turns  and  he  enters  —  what  quick  twinge 

Ruins  the  smiling  mouth,  those  wide  eyes  fix 

Whereon,  why  like  some  spectral  candlestick's 

Branch  the  disciple's  arms  ?     Dead  swooned  he,  woke 

Anon,  heaved  sigh,  made  shift  to  gasp,  heart-broke, 

"  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan !  have  I  toiled 

To  no  more  purpose  ?  is  the  gospel  foiled 

Here  too,  and  o'er  my  son's,  my  Xanthus'  hearth, 

Portrayed  with  sooty  garb  and  features  swarth  — 

Ah  Xanthus,  am  I  to  thy  roof  beguiled 

To  see  the  —  the  —  the  Devil  domiciled  ?  " 

Whereto  sobbed  Xanthus,  "  Father,  't  is  yourself 


HE    TAKES    UP    THE    THREAD    OF   DISCOURSE.      Ill 

Installed,  a  limning  which  our  utmost  pelf 

Went  to  procure  against  to-morrow's  loss ; 

And  that  '&  no  twy-prong,  but  a  pastoral  cross, 

You  're  painted  with ! "     His  puckered  brows  unfold  — 

And  you  shall  hear  Bordello's  story  told. 


BOOK    THE    FOURTH. 

MEN    SUFFERED   MUCH, 

MEANTIME  Ferrara  lay  in  rueful  case  ; 

The  ladyc&t^  for  whose  sole  embrace 

Her  pair  of  suitors  struggled,  felt  their  arms 

A  brawny  mischief  to  the  fragile  charms 

They  tugged  for  —  one  discovering  that  to  twist 

Her  tresses  twice  or  thrice  about  his  wrist 

Secured  a  point  of  vantage  —  one,  how  best 

He  'd  parry  that  by  planting  in  her  breast 

His  elbow-spike  —  each  party  too  intent 

For  noticing,  howe'er  the  battle  went, 

The  conqueror  would  but  have  a  corpse  to  kiss. 

"  May  Boniface  be  duly  damned  for  this ! " 

—  Howled  some  old  Ghibellin,  as  up  he  turned, 
From  the  wet  heap  of  rubbish  where  they  burned 
His  house,  a  little  skull  with  dazzling  teeth : 

"  A  boon,  sweet  Christ  —  let  Salinguerra  seethe 

In  hell  forever,  Christ,  and  let  myself 

Be  there  to  laugh  at  him !  "  —  moaned  some  young  Guelf 

Stumbling  upon  a  shrivelled  hand  nailed  fast 

To  the  charred  lintel  of  the  doorway,  last 

His  father  stood  within  to  bid  him  speed. 

The  thoroughfares  were  overrun  with  weed 

—  Docks,  quitchgrass,  loathly  mallows  no  man  plants. 


WHICHEVER    OF   THE   PARTIES    WAS    VICTOR.      113 

The  stranger,  none  of  its  inhabitants 
Crept  out  of  doors  to  taste  fresh  air  again, 
And  ask  the  purpose  of  a  sumptuous  train 
Admitted  on  a  morning ;  every  town 
Of  the  East  League  was  come  by  envoy  down 
To  treat  for  Richard's  ransom  :  here  you  saw 
The  Vicentine,  here  snowy  oxen  draw 
The  Paduan  carroch,  its  vermilion  cross 
On  its  white  field.     A-tiptoe  o'er  the  fosse 
Looked  Legate  Montelungo  wistfully 
After  the  flock  of  steeples  he  might  spy 
In  Este's  time,  gone  (doubts  he)  long  ago 
To  mend  the  ramparts  —  sure  the  laggards  know 
The  Pope 's  as  good  as  here  !     They  paced  the  streets 
More  soberly.     At  last,  "  Taurello  greets 
The  League,"  announced  a  pursuivant,  —  "  will  match 
Its  courtesy,  and  labors  to  despatch 
At  earliest  Tito,  Friedrich's  Pretor,  sent 
On  pressing  matters  from  his  post  at  Trent, 
With  Mainard  Count  of  Tyrol,  —  simply  waits 
Their  going  to  receive  the  delegates." 
"  Tito ! "     Our  delegates  exchanged  a  glance, 
And,  keeping  the  main  way,  admired  askance 
The  lazy  engines  of  outlandish  birth, 
Couched  like  a  king  each  on  its  bank  of  earth  — 
Arbalist,  manganel,  and  catapult ; 
While  stationed  by,  as  waiting  a  result, 
Lean  silent  gangs  of  mercenaries  ceased 
Working  to  watch  the  strangers.     "  This,  at  least, 


114      HOW   GUELFS    CRITICISE    GHIBELLIN   WORK 

Were  better  spared ;  he  scarce  presumes  gainsay 
The  League's  decision !     Get  our  friend  away 
And  profit  for  the  future  :  how  else  teach 
Fools  't  is  not  safe  to  stray  within  claw's  reach 
Ere  Salinguerra's  final  gasp  be  blown  ? 
Those  mere  convulsive  scratches  find  the  bone. 
Who  bade  him  bloody  the  spent  osprey's  nare  ?  " 

The  carrochs  halted  in  the  public  square. 
Pennons  of  every  blazon  once  a-flaunt, 
Men  prattled,  freelier  that  the  crested  gaunt 
White  ostrich  with  a  horse-shoe  in  her  beak 
Was  missing,  and  whoever  chose  might  speak 
Ecelin  boldly  out :  so,  —  "  Ecelin 
Needed  his  wife  to  swallow  half  the  sin 
And  sickens  by  himself:  the  Devil's  whelp, 
He  styles  his  son,  dwindles  away,  no  help 
From  conserves,  your  fine  triple-curded  froth 
Of  virgin's  blood,  your  Venice  viper-broth  — 
Eh  ?  Jubilate !     Peace !  no  little  word 
You  utter  here  that 's  not  distinctly  heard 
Up  at  Oliero :  he  was  absent  sick 
When  we  besieged  Bassano  —  who,  i'  the  thick 
O'  the  work,  perceived  the  progress  Azzo  made, 
Like  Ecelin,  through  his  witch  Adelaide  ? 
She  managed  it  so  well  that,  night  by  night, 
At  their  bed-foot  stood  up  a  soldier-sprite 
First  fresh,  pale  by  and  by  without  a  wound, 
And,  when  it  came  with  eyes  filmed  as  in  swound, 
They  knew  the  place  was  taken.     Ominous 


AS  UNUSUALLY  ENERGETIC  IN  THIS  CASE.   115 

That  Ghibellins  should  get  what  cautelous 

Old  Redbeard  sought  from  Azzo's  sire  to  wrench 

Vainly ;  Saint  George  contrived  his  town  a  trench 

O'  the  marshes,  an  impermeable  bar. 

Young  Ecelin  is  meant  the  tutelar 

Of  Padua,  rather ;  veins  embrace  upon 

His  hand  like  Brenta  and  Bacchiglion. 

What  now  ?     The  founts  !     God's   bread,  touch  not  a 

A  crawling  hell  of  carrion  —  every  tank  [plank ! 

Choke  full !  —  found  out  just  now  to  Cino's  cost  — 

The  same  who  gave  Taurello  up  for  lost, 

And,  making  no  account  of  fortune's  freaks, 

Refused  to  budge  from  Padua  then,  but  sneaks 

Back  now  with  Concorezzi  —  'faith  !  they  drag 

Their  carroch  to  San  Vital,  plant  the  flag 

On  his  own  palace  so  adroitly  razed 

He  knew  it  not ;  a  sort  of  Guelf  folk  gazed 

And  laughed  apart ;  Cino  disliked  their  air  — 

Must  pluck  up  spirit,  show  he  does  not  care  — 

Seats  himself  on  the  tank's  edge  —  will  begin 

To  hum,  za,  za,  Cavaler  Ecelin  — 

A  silence  ;  he  gets  warmer,  clinks  to  chime, 

Now  both  feet  plough  the  ground,  deeper  each  time, 

At  last,  za,  za,  and  up  with  a  fierce  kick 

Comes  his  own  mother's  face  caught  by  the  thick 

Gray  hair  about  his  spur ! " 

Which  means,  they  lift 
The  covering,  Salinguerra  made  a  shift 
To  stretch  upon  the  truth ;  as  well  avoid 


116  HOW,  PASSING  THROUGH  THE  RAKE  GARDEN, 

Further  disclosures  ;  leave  them  thus  employed. 

Our  dropping  Autumn  morning  clears  apace, 

And  poor  Ferrara  puts  a  softened  face 

On  her  misfortunes.     Let  us  scale  this  tall 

Huge  foursquare  line  of  red  brick  garden-wall 

Bastioned  within  by  trees  of  every  sort 

On  three  sides,  slender,  spreading,  long  and  short, 

—  Each  grew  as  it  contrived,  the  poplar  ramped, 

The  fig-tree  reared  itself,  —  but  stark  and  cramped, 

Made  fools  of,  like  tamed  lions ;  whence,  on  the  edge, 

Running  'twixt  trunk  and  trunk  to  smooth  one  ledge 

Of  shade,  were  shrubs  inserted,  warp  and  woof, 

Which  smothered  up  that  variance.     Scale  the  roof 

Of  solid  tops,  and  o'er  the  slope  you  slide 

Down  to  a  grassy  space  level  and  wide, 

Here  and  there  dotted  with  a  tree,  but  trees 

Of  rarer  leaf,  each  foreigner  at  ease, 

Set  by  itself:  and  in  the  centre  spreads, 

Born  upon  three  uneasy  leopards'  heads, 

A  laver,  broad  and  shallow,  one  bright  spirt 

Of  water  bubbles  in.     The  walls  begirt 

"With  trees  leave  off  on  either  hand ;  pursue 

Your  path  along  a  wondrous  avenue 

Those  walls  abut  on,  heaped  of  gleamy  stone, 

With  aloes  leering  everywhere,  gray-grown 

From  many  a  Moorish  summer  :  how  they  wind 

Out  of  the  fissures  !  likelier  to  bind 

The  building  than  those  rusted  cramps  which  drop 

Already  in  the  eating  sunshine.     Stop, 


SALINGUERRA  CONTRIVED  FOR  A  PURPOSE,   117 

You  fleeting  shapes  above  there  !     Ah,  the  pride 

Or  else  despair  of  the  whole  country-side  — 

A  range  of  statues,  swarming  o'er  with  wasps, 

God,  goddess,  woman,  man,  the  Greek  rough-rasps 

In  crumbling  Naples  marble  !  meant  to  look 

Like  those  Messina  marbles  Constance  took 

Delight  in,  or  Taurello's  self  conveyed 

To  Mantua  for  his  mistress,  Adelaide, 

A  certain  font  with  caryatides 

Since  cloistered  at  Goito ;  only,  these 

Are  up  and  doing,  not  abashed,  a  troop 

Able  to  right  themselves  —  who  see  you,  stoop 

O'  the  instant  after  you  their  arms !     Unplucked 

By  this  or  that,  you  pass,  for  they  conduct 

To  terrace  raised  on  terrace,  and,  between, 

Creatures  of  brighter  mould  and  braver  mien 

Than  any  yet,  the  choicest  of  the  Isle 

No  doubt.     Here,  left  a  sullen  breathing-while, 

Up-gathered  on  himself  the  Fighter  stood 

For  his  last  fight,  and,  wiping  treacherous  blood 

Out  of  the  eyelids  just  held  ope  beneath 

Those  shading  fingers  in  their  iron  sheath, 

Steadied  his  strengths  amid  the  buzz  and  stir 

Of  the  dusk  hideous  amphitheatre 

At  the  announcement  of  his  over-match 

To  wind  the  day's  diversion  up,  despatch 

The  pertinacious  Gaul :  while,  limbs  one  heap, 

The  Slave,  no  breath  in  her  "round  mouth,  watched  leap 

Dart  after  dart  forth,  as  her  hero's  car 


118     SORDELLO    PONDERS   ALL    SEEN   AND    HEARD, 

Clove  dizzily  the  solid  of  the  war 
—  Let  coil  about  his  knees  for  pride  in  him. 
We  reach  the  farthest  terrace,  and  the  grim 
San  Pietro  Palace  stops  us. 

Such  the  state 

Of  Salinguerra's  plan  to  emulate 
Sicilian  marvels,  that  his  girlish  wife 
Retrude  still  might  lead  her  ancient  life 
In  her  new  home  —  whereat  enlarged  so  much 
Neighbors  upon  the  novel  princely  touch 
He  took,  —  who  here  imprisons  Boniface. 
Here  must  the  Envoys  come  to  sue  for  grace  ; 
And  here,  emerging  from  the  labyrinth 
Below,  Sordello  paused  beside  the  plinth 
Of  the  door-pillar. 

He  had  really  left. 

Yerona  for  the  cornfields  (a  poor  theft 
From  the  morass)  where  Este's  camp  was  made ; 
The  Envoys'  march,  the  Legate's  cavalcade  — 
All  had  been  seen  by  him,  but  scarce  as  when, 
Eager  for  cause  to  stand  aloof  from  men 
At  every  point  save  the  fantastic  tie 
Acknowledged  in  his  boyish  sophistry, 
He  made  account  of  such.     A  crowd,  —  he  meant 
To  task  the  whole  of  it ;  each  part's  intent 
Concerned  him  therefore :  and,  the  more  he  pried, 
The  less  became  Sordello  satisfied 
With  his  own  figure  at  the  moment.     Sought 
He  respite  from  his  task  ?  descried  he  aught 


FINDS    IN    MEN   NO    MACHINE    FOR   HIS    SAKE,       119 

Novel  in  the  anticipated  sight 

Of  all  these  livers  upon  all  delight  ? 

This  phalanx,  as  of  myriad  points  combined, 

Whereby  he  still  had  imaged  that  mankind 

His  youth  was  passed  in  dreams  of  rivalling, 

His  age  —  in  plans  to  prove  at  least  such  thing 

Had  been  so  dreamed,  — r  which  now  he  must  impress 

With  his  own  will,  effect  a  happiness 

By  theirs,  —  supply  a  body  to  his  soul 

Thence,  and  become  eventually  whole 

With  them  as  he  had  hoped  to  be  without  — 

Made  these  the  mankind  he  once  raved  about  ? 

Because  a  few  of  them  were  notable, 

Should  all  be  figured  worthy  note  ?     As  well 

Expect  to  find  Taurello's  triple  line 

Of  trees  a  single  and  prodigious  pine. 

Real  pines  rose  here  and  there ;  but,  close  among, 

Thrust  into  and  mixed  up  with  pines,  a  throng 

Of  shrubs,  he  saw,  —  a  nameless  common  sort 

O'erpast  in  dreams,  left  out  of  the  report 

And  hurried  into  corners,  or  at  best 

Admitted  to  be  fancied  like  the  rest. 

Reckon  that  morning's  proper  chiefs  —  how  few  ! 

And  yet  the  people  grew,  the  people  grew, 

Grew  ever,  as  if  the  many  there  indeed, 

More  left  behind  and  most  who  should  succeed,  — 

Simply  in  virtue  of  their  mouths  and  eyes, 

Petty  enjoyments  and  huge  miseries,  — 

Mingled  with,  and  made  veritably  great 


120       BUT   A   THING    WITH   A   LIFE    OF    ITS    OWN, 

Those  chiefs :  he  overlooked  not  Mainard's  state 

Nor  Concorezzi's  station,  but  instead 

Of  stopping  there,  each  dwindled  to  be  head 

Of  infinite  and  absent  Tyrolese 

Or  Paduans ;  startling  all  the  more,  that  these 

Seemed  passive  and  disposed  of,  uncared  for, 

"  Yet  doubtless  on  the  whole  "  (quoth  Eglamor) 

"  Smiling  —  for  if  a  wealthy  man  decays 

And  out  of  store  of  robes  must  wear,  all  days, 

One  tattered  suit,  alike  in  sun  and  shade, 

'T  is  commonly  some  tarnished  gay  brocade 

Fit  for  a  feast-night's  flourish  and  no  more  : 

Nor  otherwise  poor  Misery  from  her  store 

Of  looks  is  fain  to  upgather,  keep  unfurled 

For  common  wear  as  she  goes  through  the  world, 

The  faint  remainder  of  some  worn-out  smile 

Meant  for  a  feast-night's  service  merely."     While 

Crowd  upon  crowd  rose  on  Sordello  thus,  — 

(Crowds  no  way  interfering  to  discuss, 

Much  less  dispute,  life's  joys  with  one  employed 

In  envying  them,  —  or,  if  they  aught  enjoyed, 

Where  lingered  something  indefinable 

In  every  look  and  tone,  the  mirth  as  well 

As  woe,  that  fixed  at  once  his  estimate 

Of  the  result,  their  good  or  bad  estate)  — 

Old  memories  returned  with  new  effect : 

And  the  new  body,  ere  he  could  suspect, 

Cohered,  mankind  and  he  were  really  fused, 

The  new  self  seemed  impatient  to  be  used 


AND    RIGHTS    HITHERTO    IGNORED    BY   HIM,        121 

By  him,  but  utterly  another  way 

To  that  anticipated :  strange  to  say, 

They  were  too  much  below  him,  more  in  thrall 

Than  he,  the  adjunct  than  the  principal. 

What  booted  scattered  units  ?  —  here  a  mind 

And  there,  which  might  repay  his  own  to  find, 

And  stamp,  and  use?  —  a  few,  howe'er  august, 

If  all  the  rest  were  grovelling  in  the  dust  ? 

No :  first  a  mighty  equilibrium,  sure, 

Should  he  establish,  privilege  procure 

For  all,  the  few  had  long  possessed !  he  felt 

An  error,  an  exceeding  error  melt  — 

"While  he  was  occupied  with  Mantuan  chants, 

Behooved  him  think  of  men,  and  take  their  wants, 

Such  as  he  now  distinguished  every  side, 

As  his  own  want  which  might  be  satisfied,  — 

And,  after  that,  think  of  rare  qualities 

Of  his  own  soul  demanding  exercise. 

It  followed  naturally,  through  no  claim 

On  their  part,  which  made  virtue  of  the  aim 

At  serving  them,  on  his,  —  that,  past  retrieve, 

He  felt  now  in  their  toils,  theirs  —  nor  could  leave 

Wonder  how,  in  the  eagerness  to  rule, 

Impress  his  will  on  mankind,  he  (the  fool !) 

Had  never  even  entertained  the  thought 

That  this  his  last  arrangement  might  be  fraught 

With  incidental  good  to  them  as  well, 

And  that  mankind's  delight  would  help  to  swell 

His  own.     So,  if  he  sighed,  as  formerly 


122    A   FAULT    HE    IS    NOW   ANXIOUS    TO    REPAIR, 

Because  the  merry  time  of  life  must  fleet, 

'T  was  deeplier  now,  —  for  could  the  crowds  repeat 

Their  poor  experiences  ?     His  hand  that  shook 

"Was  twice  to  be  deplored.  .  "  The  Legate,  look  ! 

With  eyes,  like  fresh-blown  thrush-eggs  on  a  thread, 

Faint-blue  and  loosely  floating  in  his  head, 

Large  tongue,  moist  open  mouth  ;  and  this  long  while 

That  owner  of  the  idiotic  smile 

Serves  them ! "     He  fortunately  saw  in  time 

His  fault  however,  and  since  the  office  prime 

Includes  the  secondary  —  best  accept 

Both  offices ;  Taurello,  its  adept, 

Could  teach  him  the  preparatory  one, 

And  how  to  do  what  he  had  fancied  done 

Long  previously,  ere  take  the  greater  task. 

How  render  first  these  people,  happy  ?  ask 

The  people's  friends :  for  there  must  be  one  good, 

One  way  to  it  —  the  Cause !  —  he  understood 

The  meaning  now  of  Palma  ;  why  the  jar 

Else,  the  ado,  the  trouble  wide  and  far 

Of  Guelfs  and  Ghibellins,  the  Lombard's  hope 

And  Rome's  despair  ?  —  'twixt  Emperor  and  Pope 

The  confused  shifting  sort  of  Eden  tale  — 

Still  hardihood  recurring,  still  to  fail  — 

That  foreign  interloping  fiend,  this  free 

And  native  overbrooding  deity  — 

Yet  a  dire  fascination  o'er  the  palms 

The  Kaiser  ruined,  troubling  even  the  calms 

Of  Paradise  —  or,  on  the  other  hand, 


SINCE    HE   APPREHENDS    ITS    FULL    EXTENT,       123 

The  Pontiff,  as  the  Kaisers  understand, 

One  snake-like  cursed  of  God  to  love  the  ground, 

"Whose  heavy  length  breaks  in  the  noon  profound 

Some  saving  tree  —  which  needs  the  Kaiser,  drest 

As  the  dislodging  angel  of  that  pest, 

Then  —  yet  that  pest  bedropt,  flat  head,  full  fold, 

With  coruscating  dower  of  dyes.     "  Behold 

The  secret,  so  to  speak,  and  master-spring 

Of  the  contest !  which  of  the  two  Powers  shall  bring 

Men  good  —  perchance  the  most  good  —  ay,  it  may 

Be  that !  the  question,  which  best  knows  the  way." 

And  hereupon  Count  Mainard  strutted  past 
Out  of  San  Pietro ;  never  seemed  the  last 
Of  archers,  slingers  :  and  our  friend  began 
To  recollect  strange  modes  of  serving  man  — 
Arbalist,  catapult,  brake,  manganel, 
And  more.     "  This  way  of  theirs  may,  —  who  can  tell  ?  — 
Need  perfecting,"  said  he :  "  let  all  be  solved 
At  once !  Taurello  't  is,  the  task  devolved 
On  late  —  confront  Taurello ! " 

And  at  last 

He  did  confront  him.     Scarcely  an  hour  past 
"When  forth  Sordello  came,  older  by  years 
Than  at  his  entry.     Unexampled  fears 
Oppressed  him,  and  he  staggered  off,  blind,  mute 
And  deaf,  like  some  fresh-mutilated  brute, 
Into  Ferrara  —  not  the  empty  town 
That  morning  witnessed :  he  went  up  and  down 
Streets  whence  the  veil  had  been  stripped  shred  by  shred, 


124     AND    WOULD    FAIN    HAVE    HELPED    SOME    WAY. 

So  that,  in  place  of  huddling  with  their  dead 

Indoors,  to  answer  Salinguerra's  ends, 

Its  folk  made  shift  to  crawl  forth,  sit  like  friends 

With  any  one.     A  woman  gave  him  choice 

Of  her  two  daughters,  the  infantile  voice 

Or  the  dimpled  knee,  for  half  a  chain,  his  throat 

Was  clasped  with ;  but  an  archer  knew  the  coat  — 

Its  blue  cross  and  eight  lilies,  —  bade  beware 

One  dogging  him  in  concert  with  the  pair 

Though  thrumming  on  the  sleeve  that  hid  his  knife. 

Night  set  in  early,  autumn  dews  were  rife, 

They  kindled  great  fires  while  the  Leaguer's  mass 

Began  at  every  carroch  —  he  must  pass 

Between  the  kneeling  people.     Presently 

The  carroch  of  Verona  caught  his  eye 

With  purple  trappings  ;  silently  he  bent 

Over  its  fire,  when  voices  violent 

Began,  "  Affirm  not  whom  the  youth  was  like 

That,  striking  from  the  porch,  I  did  not  strike 

Again ;  I  too  have  chestnut  hair ;  my  kin 

Hate  Azzo  and  stand  up  for  Ecelin. 

Here,  minstrel,  drive  bad  thoughts  away  !  sing !  take 

My  glove  for  guerdon  ! "  and  for  that  man's  sake 

He  turned :  "  A  song  of  Eglamor's  ! "  —  scarce  named, 

When,  "  Our  Sorcfello's,  rather !  "  all  exclaimed  ; 

"  Is  not  Sordello  famousest  for  rhyme  ?  " 

He  had  been  happy  to  deny,  this  time,  — 

Profess  as  heretofore  the  aching  head 

And  failing  heart,  —  suspect  that  in  his  stead 


BUT    SALINGTJERRA    IS    ALSO    FEE-OCCUPIED ;     125 

Some  true  Apollo  had  the  charge  of  them, 

Was  champion  to  reward  or  to  condemn, 

So  his  intolerable  risk  might  shift 

Or  share  itself;  but  Naddo's  precious  gift 

Of  gifts,  he  owned,  be  certain  !     At  the  close  — 

"  I  made  that,"  said  he  to  a  youth  who  rose 

As  if  to  hear :  't  was  Palma  through  the  band 

Conducted  him  in  silence  by  her  hand. 

Back  now  for  Salinguerra.     Tito  of  Trent 
Gave  place  to  Palma  and  her  friend  j  who  went 
In  turn  at  Montelungo's  visit  —  one 
After  the  other  were  they  come  and  gone,  — 
These  spokesmen  for  the  Kaiser  and  the  Pope, 
This  incarnation  of  the  People's  hope,  ^ 
Sordello,  —  all  the  say  of  each  was  said, 
And  Salinguerra  sat,  himself  instead 
Of  these  to  talk  with,  lingered  musing  yet. 
'T  was  a  drear  vast  presence-chamber  roughly  set 
In  order  for  the  morning's  use  ;  full  face, 
The  Kaiser's  ominous  sign-mark  had  first  place, 
The  crowned  grim  twy-necked  eagle,  coarsely  blacked 
With  ochre  on  the  naked  wall ;  nor  lacked 
Romano's  green  and  yellow  either  side ; 
But  the  new  token  Tito  brought  had  tried 
The  Legate's  patience  —  nay,  if  Palma  knew 
What  Salinguerra  almost  meant  to  do 
Until  the  sight  of  her  restored  his  lip 
A  certain  half-smile,  three  months'  chieftainship 
Had  banished !     Afterward,  the  Legate  found 


126      RESEMBLING    BORDELLO    IN   NOTHING   ELSE. 

No  change  in  him,  nor  asked  what  badge  he  wound 

And  unwound  carelessly.     Now  sat  the  Chief 

Silent  as  when  our  couple  left,  whose  brief 

Encounter  wrought  so  opportune  effect 

In  thoughts  he  summoned  not,  nor  would  reject. 

Though  time  't  was  now  if  ever,  to  pause  —  fix 

On  any  sort  of  ending :  wiles  and  tricks 

Exhausted,  judge !  his  charge,  the  crazy  town, 

Just  managed  to  be  hindered  crashing  down  — 

His  last  sound  troops  ranged  —  care  observed  to  post 

His  best  of  the  maimed  soldiers  innermost  — 

So  much  was  plain  enough,  but  somehow  struck 

Him  not  before.     And  now  with  this  strange  luck 

Of  Tito's  news,  rewarding  his  address 

So  well,  what  thought  he  of?  —  how  the  success 

With  Friedrich's  rescript  there,  would  either  hush 

Old  Ecelin's  scruples,  bring  the  manly  flush 

To  his  young  son's  white  cheek,  or,  last,  exempt 

Himself  from  telling  what  there  was  to  tempt  ? 

No :  that  this  minstrel  was  Romano's  last 

Servant  —  himself  the  first !     Could  he  contrast 

The  whole !  that  minstrel's  thirty  years  just  spent 

In  doing  naught,  their  notablest  event 

This  morning's  journey  hither,  as  I  told  — 

Who  yet  was  lean,  outworn  and  really  old, 

A  stammering  awkward  man  that  scarce  dared  raise 

His  eye  before  the  magisterial  gaze  — 

And  Salinguerra  with  his  fears  and  hopes 

Of  sixty  years,  his  Emperors  and  Popes, 


HOW   HE   WAS    MADE   IN   BODY   AND    SPIRIT,       127 

Cares  and  contrivances,  yet,  you  would  say, 

'T  was  a  youth  nonchalantly  looked  away 

Through  the  embrasure  northward  o'er  the  sick 

Expostulating  trees  —  so  agile,  quick 

And  graceful  turned  the  head  on  the  broad  chest 

Encased  in  pliant  steel,  his  constant  vest. 

"Whence  split  the  sun  off  in  a  spray  of  fire 

Across  the  room ;  and,  loosened  of  its  tire 

Of  steel,  that  head  let  breathe  the  comely  brown 

Large  massive  locks  discolored  as  if  a  crown 

Encircled  them,  so  frayed  the  basnet  where 

A  sharp  white  line  divided  clean  the  hair ; 

Glossy  above,  glossy  below,  it  swept 

Curling  and  fine  about  a  brow  thus  kept 

Calm,  laid  coat  upon  coat,  marble  and  sound : 

This  was  the  mystic  mark  the  Tuscan  found, 

Mused  of,  turned  over  books  about.     Square-faced, 

No  lion  more ;  two  vivid  eyes,  enchased 

In  hollows  filled  with  many  a  shade  and  streak 

Settling  from  the  bold  nose  and  bearded  cheek ; 

Nor  might  the  half-smile  reach  them  that  deformed 

A  lip  supremely  perfect  else  —  unwarmed, 

Unwidened,  less  or  more ;  indifferent 

Whether  on  trees  or  men  his  thoughts  were  bent, 

Thoughts  rarely,  after  all,  in  trim  and  train 

As  now  a  period  was  fulfilled  again ; 

Of  such,  a  series  made  his  life,  compressed 

In  each,  one  story  serving  for  the  rest  — 

How  his  life-streams  rolling  arrived  at  last 


128       AND    WHAT    HAD    BEEN    HIS    CAREER    OF    OLD. 

At  the  barrier,  whence,  were  it  once  overpast, 

They  would  emerge,  a  river  to  the  end,  — 

Gathered  themselves  up,  paused,  bade  fate  befriend, 

Took  the  leap,  hung  a  minute  at  the  height, 

Then  fell  back  to  oblivion  infinite : 

Therefore  he  smiled.     Beyond  stretched  garden-grounds 

Where  late  the  adversary,  breaking  bounds, 

Had  gained  him  an  occasion,  That  above, 

That  eagle,  testified  he  could  improve 

Effectually.     The  Kaiser's  symbol  lay 

Beside  his  rescript,  a  new  badge  by  way 

Of  baldric ;  while,  —  another  thing  that  marred 

Alike  emprise,  achievement  and  reward,  — 

Eeelin's  missive  was  conspicuous  too. 

What  past  life  did  those  flying  thoughts  pursue  ? 
As  his,  few  names  in  Mantua  half  so  old  ; 
But  at  Ferrara,  where  his  sires  enrolled 
It  latterly,  the  Adelardi  spared 
No  pains  to  rival  them :  both  factions  shared 
Ferrara,  so  that,  counted  out,  't  would  yield 
A  product  very  like  the  city's  shield, 
Half  black  and  white,  or  Ghibellin  and  Guelf, 
As  after  Salinguerra  styled  himself 
And  Este  who,  till  Marchesalla  died, 
(Last  of  the  Adelardi)  —  never  tried 
His  fortune  there  :  with  Marchesalla's  child 
Would  pass,  —  could  Blacks  and  Whites  be  reconciled 
And  young  Taurello  wed  Linguetta,  —  wealth 
And  sway  to  a  sole  grasp.     Each  treats  by  stealth 


THE    ORIGINAL    CHECK    TO    HIS    FORTUNES,         129 

Already :  when  the  Guelfs,  the  Ravennese 
Arrive,  assault  the  Pietro  quarter,  seize 
Linguetta,  and  are  gone !     Men's  first  dismay 
Abated  somewhat,  hurries  down,  to  lay 
The  after  indignation,  Boniface, 
This  Richard's  father.     "  Learn  the  full  disgrace 
Averted,  ere  you  blame  us  Guelfs,  who  rate 
Your  Salinguerra,  your  sole  potentate 
That  might  have  been,  'mongst  Este's  valvassors  — 
Ay,  Azzo's  —  who,  not  privy  to,  abhors 
Our  step  —  but  we  were  zealous."     Azzo  's  then 
To  do  with !     Straight  a  meeting  of  old  men : 
"  Old  Salinguerra  dead,  his  heir  a  boy, 
What  if  we  change  our  ruler  and  decoy 
The  Lombard  Eagle  of  the  azure  sphere, 
With  Italy  to  build  in,  fix  him  here, 
Settle  the  city's  troubles  in  a  trice  ? 
For  private  wrong,  let  public  good  suffice ! " 
In  fine,  young  Salinguerra's  stanchest  friends 
Talked  of  the  townsmen  making  him  amends, 
Gave  him  a  goshawk,  and  affirmed  there  was 
Rare  sport,  one  morning,  over  the  green  grass 
A  mile  or  so.     He  sauntered  through  the  plain, 
Was  restless,  fell  to  thinking,  turned  again 
In  time  for  Azzo's  entry  with  the  bride  ; 
Count  Boniface  rode  smirking  at  their  side  : 
"  She  brings  him  half  Ferrara,"  whispers  flew, 
"  And  all  Ancona !     If  the  stripling  knew ! " 
Anon  the  stripling  was  in  Sicily 


130      WHICH   HE    WAS    IN    THE    WAT   TO    RETRIEVE, 

"Where  Heinricli  ruled  in  right  of  Constance ;  he 

Was  gracious  nor  his  guest  incapable ; 

Each  understood  the  other.     So  it  fell, 

One  Spring,  when  Azzo,  thoroughly  at  ease, 

Had  near  forgotten  by  what  precise  degrees 

He  crept  at  first  to  such  a  downy  seat, 

The  Count  trudged  over  in  a  special  heat 

To  bid  him  of  God's  love  dislodge  from  each 

Of  Salinguerra's  palaces,  —  a  breach 

Might  yawn  else,  not  so  readily  to  shut, 

For  who  was  just  arrived  at  Mantua  but 

The  youngster,  sword  on  thigh,  and  tuft  on  chin, 

With  tokens  for  Celano,  Ecelin, 

Pistore  and  the  like !     Next  news,  —  no  whit 

Do  any  of  Ferrara's  domes  befit 

His  wife  of  Heinrich's  very  blood  :  a  band 

Of  foreigners  assemble,  understand 

Garden-constructing,  level  and  surround, 

Build  up  and  bury  in.     A  last  news  crowned 

The  consternation :  since  his  infant's  birth, 

He  only  waits  they  end  his  wondrous  girth 

Of  trees  that  link  San  Pietro  with  Toma, 

To  visit  Mantua.     When  the  Podesta 

Ecelin,  at  Vicenza,  called  his  friend 

Taurello  thither,  what  could  be  their  end 

But  to  restore  the  Ghibellins'  late  Head, 

The  Kaiser  helping  ?     He  with  most  to  dread 

From  vengeance  and  reprisal,  Azzo,  there 

With  Boniface  beforehand,  as  aware 


WHEN   A    FRESH    CALAMITY   DESTROYED    ALL.       131 

Of  plots  in  progress,  gave  alarm,  expelled 
Both  plotters :  but  the  Guelfs  in  triumph  yelled 
Too  hastily.     The  burning  and  the  flight, 
And  how  Taurello,  occupied  that  night 
With  Ecelin,  lost  wife  and  son,  I  told : 
—  Not  how  he  bore  the  blow,  retained  his  hold, 
Got  friends  safe  through,  left  enemies  the  worst 
O'  the  fray,  and  hardly  seemed  to  care  at  first  — 
But  afterward  men  heard  not  constantly 
Of  Salinguerra's  House  so  sure  to  be ! 
Though  Azzo  simply  gained  by  the  event 
A  shifting  of  his  plagues  —  the  first,  content 
To  fall  behind  the  second  and  estrange 
So  far  his  nature,  suffer  such  a  change 
That  in  Romano  sought  he  wife  and  child, 
And  for  Romano's  sake  seemed  reconciled 
To  losing  individual  life,  which  shrunk 
As  the  other  prospered  —  mortised  in  his  trunk ; 
Like  a  dwarf  palm  which  wanton  Arabs  foil 
Of  bearing  its  own  proper  wine  and  oil, 
By  grafting  into  it  the  stranger-vine, 
'Which  sucks  its  heart  out,  sly  and  serpentine, 
Till  forth  one  vine-palm  feathers  to  the  root, 
And  red  drops  moisten  the  insipid  fruit. 
Once  Adelaide  set  on,  —  the  subtle  mate 
Of  the  weak  soldier,  urged  to  emulate 
The  Church's  valiant  women  deed  for  deed, 
And  paragon  her  namesake,  win  the  meed 
Of  the  great  Matilda,  —  soon  they  overbore 


132   HE  SANK  INTO  A  SECONDARY  PERSONAGE, 

The  rest  of  Lombard v,  —  not  as  before 

By  an  instinctive  truculence,  but  patched 

The  Kaiser's  strategy  until  it  matched 

The  Pontiff's,  sought  old  ends  by  novel  means. 

"  Only,  why  is  it  Salinguerra  screens 

Himself  behind  Romano  ?  —  him  we  bade 

Enjoy  our  shine  i'  the  front,  not  seek  the  shade !  " 

—  Asked  Heinrich,  somewhat  of  the  tardiest 
To  comprehend.     Nor  Philip  acquiesced 
At  once  in  the  arrangement ;  reasoned,  plied 
His  friend  with  offers  of  another  bride, 

A  statelier  function  —  fruitlessly  :  't  was  plain 
Taurello  through  some  weakness  must  remain 
Obscure.  And  Otho,  free  to  judge  of  both, 

—  Ecelin  the  unready,  harsh  and  loath, 
And  this  more  plausible  and  facile  wight 
With  every  point  a-sparkle  —  chose  the  right, 
Admiring  how  his  predecessors  harped 

On  the  wrong  man  :   "  thus,"  quoth  he,  "  wits  are 

warped 

By  outsides  ! "     Carelessly,  meanwhile,  his  life 
Suffered  its  many  turns  of  peace  and  strife 
In  many  lands  —  you  hardly  could  surprise 
The  man ;  —  who  shamed  Bordello  (recognize !) 
In  this  as  much  beside,  that,  unconcerned 
What  qualities  were  natural  or  earned, 
With  no  ideal  of  graces,  as  they  came 
He  took  them,  singularly  well  the  same  — 
Speaking  the  Greek's  own  language,  just  because 


WITH    THE    APPROPRIATE    GRACES    OF    SUCH.       133 

Your  Greek  eludes  you,  leave  the  least  of  flaws 

In  contracts  with  him ;  while,  since  Arab  lore 

Holds  the  stars'  secret  —  take  one  trouble  more 

And  master  it !     'T  is  done,  and  now  deter 

Who  may  the  Tuscan,  once  Jove  trined  for  her, 

From  Friedrich's  path !  —  Friedrich,  whose  pilgrimage 

The  same  man  puts  aside,  whom  he  '11  engage 

To  leave  next  year  John  Brienne  in  the  lurch, 

Come  to  Bassano,  see  Saint  Francis'  church 

And  judge  of  Guido  the  Bolognian's  piece 

Which,  lend  Taurello  credit,  rivals  Greece  — 

Angels,  with  aureoles  like  golden  quoits 

Pitched  home,  applauding  Ecelin's  exploits. 

For  elegance,  he  strung  the  angelot, 

Made  rhymes  thereto ;  for  prowess,  clove  he  not 

Tiso,  last  siege,  from  crest  to  crupper  ?     Why 

Detail  you  thus  a  varied  mastery 

But  to  show  how  Taurello,  on  the  watch 

For  men,  to  read  their  hearts  and  thereby  catch 

Their  capabilities  and  purposes, 

Displayed  himself  so  far  as  displayed  these : 

While  our  Sordello  only  cared  to  kuow 

About  men  as  a  means  whereby  he  'd  show 

Himself,  and  men  had  much  or  little  worth 

According  as  they  kept  in  or  drew  forth 

That  self;  Taurello's  choicest  instruments 

Surmised  him  shallow. 

Meantime,  malecontents 
Dropped  off,  town  after  town  grew  wiser.     "  How 


134       BUT   ECELIN,   HE    SET    IN    FRONT,   FALLING, 

Change  the  world's  face  ?  "  asked  people ;  "  as  't  is  now 

It  has  been,  will  be  ever :  very  fine 

Subjecting  things  profane  to  things  divine, 

In  talk !  this  contumacy  will  fatigue 

The  vigilance  of  Este  and  the  League ! 

The  Ghibellins  gain  on  us  ! "  —  as  it  happed. 

Old  Azzo  and  old  Boniface,  entrapped 

By  Ponte  Alto,  both  in  one  month's  space 

Slept  at  Verona :  either  left  a  brace 

Of  sons  —  but,  three  years  after,  cither's  pair 

Lost  Guglielm  and  Aldobrand  its  heir : 

Azzo  remained  and  Richard  —  all  the  stay 

Of  Este  and  Saint  Boniface,  at  bay 

As  't  were.     Then,  either  Ecelin  grew  old 

Or  his  brain  altered  —  not  of  the  proper  mould 

For  new  appliances  —  his  old  palm-stock 

Endured  no  influx  of  strange  strengths.     He  'd  rock 

As  in  a  drunkenness,  or  chuckle  low 

As  proud  of  the  completeness  of  his  woe, 

Then  weep  real  tears ;  —  now  make  some  mad  onslaught 

On  Este,  heedless  of  the  lesson  taught 

So  painfully,  —  now  cringe  for  peace,  sue  peace 

At  price  of  past  gain,  —  much  more,  fresh  increase 

To  the  fortunes  of  Romano.     Up  at  last 

Rose  Este,  down  Romano  sank  as  fast. 

And  men  remarked  these  freaks  of  peace  and  war 

Happened  while  Salinguerra  was  afar : 

Whence  every  friend  besought  him,  all  in  vain, 

To  use  his  old  adherent's  wits  again. 


SALINGUERRA    MUST   AGAIN    COME    FORWARD,       135 

Not  he !  —  "  who  had  advisers  in  his  sons, 

Could  plot  himself,  nor  needed  any  one's 

Advice."     'T  was  Adelaide's  remaining  stanch 

Prevented  his  destruction  root  and  branch 

Forthwith ;  but  when  she  died,  doom  fell,  for  gay 

He  made  alliances,  gave  lands  away 

To  whom  it  pleased  accept  them,  and  withdrew 

Forever  from  the  world.     Taurello,  who 

Was  summoned  to  the  convent,  then  refused 

A  word  at  the  wicket,  patience  thus  abused, 

Promptly  threw  off  alike  his  imbecile 

Ally's  yoke,  and  his  own  frank,  foolish  smile. 

Soon  a  few  movements  of  the  happier  sort 

Changed  matters,  put  himself  in  men's  report 

As  heretofore ;  he  had  to  fight,  beside, 

And  that  became  him  ever.     So,  in  pride 

And  flushing  of  this  kind  of  second  youth, 

He  dealt  a  good-will  blow.     Este  in  truth 

Lay  prone  —  and  men  remembered,  somewhat  late, 

A  laughing  old  outrageous  stifled  hate 

He  bore  to  Este  —  how  it  would  outbreak 

At  times  spite  of  disguise,  like  an  earthquake 

In  sunny  weather  —  as  that  noted  day 

When  with  his  hundred  friends  he  tried  to  slay 

Azzo  before  the  Kaiser's  face :  and  how. 

On  Azzo's  calm  refusal  to  allow 

A  liegeman's  challenge,  straight  he  too  was  calmed : 

As  if  his  hate  could  bear  to  lie  embalmed, 

Bricked  up,  the  moody  Pharaoh,  and  survive 


136   WHY   AND    HOW,    IS    LET    OUT   IN    SOLILOQUY. 

All  intermediate  crumblings,  and  arrive 

At  earth's  catastrophe  —  't  was  Este's  crash 

Not  Azzo's  he  demanded,  so,  no  rash 

Procedure !     Este's  true  antagonist 

Rose  out  of  Ecelin :  all  voices  whist, 

All  eyes  were  sharpened,  wits  predicted.     He 

'T  was,  leaned  in  the  embrasure  absently, 

Amused  with  his  own  efforts,  now,  to  trace 

With  his  steel-sheathed  forefinger  Friedrich's  face 

I'  the  dust :  but  as  the  trees  waved  sere,  his  smile 

Deepened,  and  words  expressed  its  thought  erewhile. 

"  Ay,  fairly  housed  at  last,  my  old  compeer  ? 
That  we  should  stick  together,  all  the  year, 
I  kept  Verona !  —  How  old  Boniface, 
Old  Azzo  caught  us  in  its  market-place, 
He  by  that  pillar,  I  at  this,  —  caught  each 
In  mid  swing,  more  than  fury  of  his  speech, 
Egging  the  rabble  on  to  disavow 
Allegiance  to  their  Marquis  —  Bacchus,  how 
They  boasted !  Ecelin  must  turn  their  drudge, 
Nor,  if  released,  will  Salinguerra  grudge 
Paying  arrears  of  tribute  due  long  since  — 
Bacchus !     My  man,  could  promise  then,  nor  wince, 
The  bones-and-muscles  !  sound  of  wind  and  limb, 
Spoke  he  the  set  excuse  I  framed  for  him : 
And  now  he  sits  me,  slavering  and  mute, 
Intent  on  chafing  each  starved  purple  foot 
Benumbed  past  aching  with  the  altar  slab  — 
Will  no  vein  throb  there  when  some  monk  shall  blab 


ECELIN,    HE    DID    ALL    FOR,    IS    A    MONK   NOW,    137 

Spitefully  to  the  circle  of  bald  scalps, 

*  Friedrich  's  affirmed  to  be  our  side  the  Alps ' 

—  Eh,  brother  Lactance,  brother  Anaclet  ? 

Sworn  to  abjure  the  world,  its  fume  and  fret, 

God's  own  now  ?     Drop  the  dormitory  bar, 

Enfold  the  scanty  gray  serge  scapular 

Twice  o'er  the  cowl  to  muffle  memories  out  — 

So !  but  the  midnight  whisper  turns  a  shout, 

Eyes  wink,  mouths  open,  pulses  circulate 

In  the  stone  walls :  the  Past,  the  world  you  hate 

Is  with  you,  ambush,  open  field  —  or  see 

The  surging  flame  —  we  fire  Vicenza  —  glee ! 

Follow,  let  Pilio  and  Bernardo  chafe  — 

Bring  up  the  Mantuans  —  through  San  Biagio  —  safe ! 

Ah,  the  mad  people  waken  ?     Ah,  they  writhe 

And  reach  us  ?  if  they  block  the  gate  —  no  tithe 

Can  pass  —  keep  back,  you  Bassanese !  the  edge, 

Use  the  edge  —  shear,  thrust,  hew,  melt  down  the 

wedge, 

Let  out  the  black  of  those  black  upturned  eyes ! 
Hell  —  are  they  sprinkling  fire  too  ?  the  blood  fries 
And  hisses  on  your  brass  gloves  as  they  tear 
Those  upturned  faces  choking  with  despair. 
Brave !  Slidder  through  the  reeking  gate  — '  how  now  ? 
You  six  had  charge  of  her  ? '     And  then  the  vow 
Comes,  and  the  foam  spirts,  hair's  plucked,  till  one 

shriek 

'I  hear  it)  and  you  fling  —  you  cannot  speak  — 
Your  gold-flowered  basnet  to  a  man  who  haled 


138       JUST    WHEN   THE    PRIZE   AWAITS    SOMEBODY 

The  Adelaide  he  dared  scarce  -view  unveiled 
This  morn,  naked  across  the  fire :  how  crown 
The  archer  that  exhausted  lays  you  down 
Your  infant,  smiling  at  the  flame,  and  dies  ? 
While  one,  while  mine  .  .  . 

Bacchus !  I  think  there  lies 

More  than  one  corpse  there  "  (and  he  paced  the  room) 
"  —  Another  cinder  somewhere  —  't  was  my  doom 
Beside,  my  doom !     If  Adelaide  is  dead 
I  am  the  same,  this  Azzo  lives  instead 
Of  that  to  me,  and  we  pull,  any  how, 
Este  into  a  heap  —  the  matter  's  now 
At  the  true  juncture  slipping  us  so  oft. 
Ay,  Heinrich  died  and  Otho,  please  you,  doffed 
His  crown  at  such  a  juncture  !  still,  if  hold 
Our  Friedrich's  purpose,  if  this  chain  enfold 
The  neck  of ...  who  but  this  same  Ecelin 
That  must  recoil  when  the  best  days  begin ! 
Recoil  ?  that 's  naught ;  if  the  recoiler  leaves 
His  name  for  me  to  fight  with,  no  one  grieves ! 
But  he  must  interfere,  forsooth,  unlock 
His  cloister  to  become  my  stumbling-block 
Just  as  of  old !     Ay,  ay,  there  't  is  again  — 
The  land's  inevitable  Head  —  explain 
The  reverences  that  subject  us !     Count 
These  Ecelins  now !  not  to  say  as  fount, 
Originating  power  of  thought,  —  from  twelve 
That  drop  i'  the  trenches  they  joined  hands  to  delve, 
Six  shall  surpass  him,  but  .  .  .  why,  men  must  twine 


HIMSELF,   IF   IT   WEKE    ONLY   WORTH    WHILE,     139 

Somehow  with  something !     Ecelin  's  a  fine 

Clear  name !     'T  were  simpler,  doubtless,  twine  with  me 

At  once :  our  cloistered  friend's  capacity 

Was  of  a  sort !     I  had  to  share  myself 

In  fifty  portions,  like  an  o'ertasked  elf 

That 's  forced  illume  in  fifty  points  the  vast 

Rare  vapor  he  's  environed  by.     At  last 

My  strengths,  though  sorely  frittered,  e'en  converge 

And  crown  ...  no,  Bacchus,  they  have  yet  to  urge 

The  man  be  crowned ! 

That  aloe,  an  he  durst, 

Would  climb !  just  such  a  bloated  sprawler  first 
I  noted  in  Messina's  castle-court 
The  day  I  came,  when  Heinrich  asked  in  sport 
If  I  would  pledge  my  faith  to  win  him  back 
His  right  in  Lombardy  :  '  for,  once  bid  pack 
Marauders/  he  continued,  ( in  my  stead 
You  rule,  Taurello ! '  and  upon  this  head 
Laid  the  silk  glove  of  Constance  —  I  see  her 
Too,  mantled  head  to  foot  in  miniver, 
Retrude  following ! 

I  am  absolved 

From  further  toil :  the  empery  devolved 
On  me,  't  was  Tito's  word :  I  have  to  lay 
For  once  my  plan,  pursue  my  plan  my  way, 
Prompt  nobody,  and  render  an  account 
Taurello  to  Taurello !  nay,  I  mount 
To  Friedrich  —  he  conceives  the  post  I  kept, 
Who  did  true  service,  able  or  inept, 


140    AS    IT   MAY   BE BUT   ALSO,    AS    IT   MAY   NOT   BE 

"Who  's  Worthy  guerdon,  Ecclin  or  I. 

Me  guerdoned,  counsel  follows ;  would  he  vie 

With  the  Pope  really  ?    Azzo,  Boniface 

Compose  a  right-arm  Hohenstauffen's  race 

Must  break  ere  govern  Lombardy.     I  point 

How  easy  'twere  to  twist,  once  out  of  joint, 

The  socket  from  the  bone :  —  my  Azzo's  stare 

Meanwhile !  for  I,  this  idle  strap  to  wear, 

Shall  —  fret  myself  abundantly,  what  end 

To  serve  ?     There  's  left  me  twenty  years  to  spend 

—  How  better  than  my  old  way  ?     Had  I  one 
Who  labored  overthrow  my  work  —  a  son 
Hatching  with  Azzo  superb  treachery, 

To  root  my  pines  up  and  then  poison  me, 

Suppose  —  't  were  worth  while  frustrate  that !     Beside, 

Another  life  's  ordained  me :  the  world's  tide 

Rolls,  and  what  hope  of  parting  from  the  press 

Of  waves,  a  single  wave  through  weariness 

Gently  lifted  aside,  laid  upon  shore  ? 

My  life  must  be  lived  out  in  foam  and  roar, 

No  question.     Fifty  years  the  province  held 

Taurello ;  troubles  raised,  and  troubles  quelled, 

He  in  the  midst  —  who  leaves  this  quaint  stone  place, 

These  trees  a  year  or  two,  then,  not  a  trace 

Of  him  !     How  obtain  hold,  fetter  men's  tongues 

Like  this  poor  minstrel  with  the  foolish  songs  — 

To  which,  despite  our  bustle,  he  is  linked  ? 

—  Flowers  one  may  tease,  that  never  grow  extinct. 
Ay,  that  patch,  surely,  green  as  ever,  where 


THE    SUPPOSITION    HE    MOST    INCLINES    TO;       141 

I  set  Her  Moorish  lentisk,  by  the  stair, 

To  overawe  the  aloes ;  and  we  trod 

Those  flowers,  how  call  you  such  ?  —  into  the  sod ; 

A  stately  foreigner  —  a  world  of  pain 

To  make  it  thrive,  arrest  rough  winds  —  all  vain  ! 

It  would  decline  ;  these  would  not  be  destroyed : 

And  now,  where  is  it  ?  where  can  you  avoid 

The  flowers  ?     I  frighten  children  twenty  years 

Longer !  —  which  way,  too,  Ecelin  appears 

To  thwart  me,  for  his  son's  besotted  youth 

Gives  promise  of  the  proper  tiger-tooth : 

They  feel  it  at  Vicenza !     Fate,  fate,  fate, 

My  fine  Taurello !  go  you,  promulgate 

Friedrich's  decree,  and  here 's  shall  aggrandize 

Young  Ecelin  —  your  Prefect's  badge  !  a  prize 

Too  precious,  certainly. 

How  now  ?     Compete 

With  my  old  comrade  ?  shuffle  from  their  seat 
His  children  ?     Paltry  dealing !     Don't  I  know 
Ecelin  ?  now,  I  think,  and  years  ago ! 
W hat's  changed  —  the  weakness?  did  not  I  compound 
For  that,  and  undertake  to  keep  him  sound 
Despite  it  ?     Here  's  Taurello  hankering 
After  a  boy's  preferment  —  this  plaything 
To  carry,  Bacchus  ! "     And  he  laughed. 

Remark 

Why  schemes  wherein  cold-blooded  men  embark 
Prosper,  when  your  enthusiastic  sort 
Fail :  while  these  last  are  ever  stopping  short  — 


142      BEING    CONTENTED    WITH    MERE    VENGEANCE. 

(So  much  they  should  —  so  little  they  can  do !) 
The  careless  tribe  see  nothing  to  pursue 
If  they  desist ;  meantime  their  scheme  succeeds. 
Thoughts  were  caprices  in  the  course  of  deeds 
Methodic  with  Taurello  ;  so,  he  turned, 
Enough  amused  by  fancies  fairly  earned 
Of  Este's  horror-struck  submitted  neck, 
And  Richard,  the  cowed  braggart,  at  his  beck,  — 
To  his  own  petty  but  immediate  doubt 
If  he  could  pacify  the  League  without 
Conceding  Richard ;  just  to  this  was  brought 
That  interval  of  vain  discursive  thought ! 
As,  shall  I  say,  some  Ethiop,  past  pursuit 
Of  all  enslavers,  dips  a  shackled  foot 
Burnt  to  the  blood,  into  the  drowsy  black 
Enormous  watercourse  which  guides  him  back 
To  his  own  tribe  again,  where  he  is  king  ; 
And  laughs  because  he  guesses,  numbering 
The  yellower  poison-wattles  on  the  pouch 
Of  the  first  lizard  wrested  from  its  couch 
Under  the  slime  (whose  skin,  the  while,  he  strips 
To  cure  his  nostril  with,  and  festered  lips, 
And  eyeballs  bloodshot  through  the  desert  blast) 
That  he  has  reached  its  boundary,  at  last 
May  breathe ;  —  thinks  o'er  enchantments  of  the  South 
Sovereign  to  plague  his  enemies,  their  mouth, 
Eyes,  nails,  and  hair ;  but,  these  enchantments  tried 
In  fancy,  puts  them  soberly  aside 
For  truth,  projects  a  cool  return  with  friends, 


SORDELLO,    TAUGHT    WHAT    GHIBELLINS    ARE,       143 

The  likelihood  of  winning  mere  amends 
Erelong ;  thinks  that,  takes  comfort  silently, 
Then,  from  the  river's  brink,  his  wrongs  and  he, 
Hugging  revenge  close  to  their  hearts,  are  soon 
Off-striding  for  the  Mountains  of  the  Moon. 

Midnight :  the  watcher  nodded  on  his  spear, 
Since  clouds  dispersing  left  a  passage  clear, 
For  any  meagre  and  discolored  moon 
To  venture  forth ;  and  such  was  peering  soon 
Above  the  harassed  city  —  her  close  lanes 
Closer,  not  half  so  tapering  her  fanes, 
As  though  she  shrunk  into  herself  to  keep 
What  little  life  was  saved,  more  safely.     Heap 
By  heap  the  watch-fires  mouldered,  and  beside 
The  blackest  spoke  Sordello  and  replied 
Palma  with  none  to  listen.     "  'T  is  your  Cause  : 
What  makes  a  Ghibellin  ?     There  should  be  laws  — 
(Remember  how  my  youth  escaped !     I  trust 
To  you  for  manhood,  Palma  ;  tell  me  just 
As  any  child)  —  there  must  be  laws  at  work 
Explaining  this.     Assure  me,  good  may  lurk 
Under  the  bad,  —  my  multitude  has  part 
In  your  designs,  their  welfare  is  at  heart 
With  Salinguerra,  to  their  interest 
Refer  the  deeds  he  dwelt  on,  —  so  divest 
Our  conference  of  much  that  scared  me.     Why 
Affect  that  heartless  tone  to  Tito  ?     I 
Esteemed  myself,  yes,  in  my  inmost  mind 
This  morn,  a  recreant  to  my  race  —  mankind 


144      AXD    WHAT    GUELFS,    APPROVES    OF    NEITHER. 

O'erlooked  till  now :  why  boast  my  spirit's  force, 

—  Such  force  denied  its  object  ?  why  divorce 
These,  then  admire  my  spirit's  flight  the  same 

As  though  it  bore  up,  helped  some  half-orbed  flame 
Else  quenched  in  the  dead  void,  to  living  space  ? 

—  That  orb  cast  off  to  chaos  and  disgrace, 
"Why  vaunt  so  much  my  unincumbered  dance, 
Making  a  feat's  facilities  enhance 

Its  marvel  ?     But  I  front  Taurello,  one 
Of  happier  fate,  and  all  I  should  have  done, 
He  does  ;  the  people's  good  being  paramount 
With  him,  their  progress  may  perhaps  account 
For  his  abiding  still :  whereas  you  heard 
The  talk  with  Tito  —  the  excuse  preferred 
For  burning  those  five  hostages,  —  and  broached 
By  way  of  blind,  as  you  and  I  approached, 
I  do  believe." 

She  spoke :  then  he,  "  My  thought 
Plainlier  expressed !     All  to  your  profit  —  naught 
Meantime  of  these,  of  conquests  to  achieve 
For  them,  of  wretchedness  he  might  relieve 
"While  profiting  your  party.     Azzo,  too, 
Supports  a  cause :  what  cause  ?     Do  Guelfs  pursue 
Their  ends  by  means  like  yours,  or  better  ?  " 

"When 

The  Guelfs  were  proved  alike,  men  weighed  with  men, 
And  deed  with  deed,  blaze,  blood,  with  blood  and  blaze, 
Morn  broke :  "  Once  more,  Sordello,  meet  its  gaze 
Proudly  —  the  people's  charge  against  thee  fails 


HAVE   MEN   A    CAUSE    DISTINCT   FROM   BOTH?      145 

In  every  point,  while  either  party  quails ! 
These  are  the  busy  ones  —  be  silent  thou  ! 
Two  parties  take  the  world  up,  and  allow 
No  third,  yet  have  one  principle,  subsist 
By  the  same  injusticeT;  whoso  shall  enlist 
With  erffieTpranEs'with  man's  inveterate  foes. 
So  there  is  one  less  quarrel  to  compose : 
The  Guelf,  the  Ghibellin  may  be  to  curse  — 
I  have  done  nothing,  but  both  sides  do  worse 
Than  nothing.     Nay,  to  me,  forgotten,  reft 
Of  insight,  lapped  by  trees  and  flowers,  was  left 
The  notion  of  a  service  —  ha  ?     What  lured 
Me  here,  what  mighty  aim  was  I  assured 
Must  move  Taurello  ?     What  if  there  remained 
A  Cause,  intact,  distinct  from  these,  ordained, 
For  me,  its  true  discoverer  ?  " 

Some  one  pressed 

Before  them  here,  a  watcher,  to  suggest 
The  subject  for  a  ballad :  "  They  must  know 
The  tale  of  the  dead  worthy,  long  ago 
Consul  of  Rome  —  that 's  long  ago  for  us, 
Minstrels  and  bowmen,  idly  squabbling  thus 
In  the  world's  corner  —  but  too  late,  no  doubt, 
For  the  brave  time  he  sought  to  bring  about. 
—  Not  know  Crescentius  Nomentanus  ?  "     Then 
He  cast  about  for  terms  to  tell  him,  when 
Sordello  disavowed  it,  how  they  used 
Whenever  their  Superior  introduced 
A  novice  to  the  Brotherhood  —  ("  for  I 

7  j 


146     WHO    WAS    THE    FAMED    ROMAN    CRESCENTIUS? 

Was  just  a  brown-sleeve  brother,  merrily 

Appointed  too,"  quoth  he,  "  till  Innocent 

Bade  me  relinquish,  to  my  small  content, 

My  wife  or  my  brown  sleeves  ")  —  some  brother  spoke 

Ere  nocturns  of  Crescentius,  to  revoke 

The  edict  issued,  after  his  demise, 

Which  blotted  fame  alike  and  effigies, 

All  out  except  a  floating  power,  a  name 

Including,  tending  to  produce  the  same 

Great  act.     Rome,  dead,  forgotten,  lived  at  least 

Within  that  brain,  though  to  a  vulgar  priest 

And  a  vile  stranger,  —  two  not  worth  a  slave 

Of  Rome's,  Pope  John,  King  Otho,  —  fortune  gave 

The  rule  there  :  so,  Crescentius,  haply  drest 

In  white,  called  Roman  Consul  for  a  jest, 

Taking  the  people  at  their  word,  forth  stept 

As  upon  Brutus'  heel,  nor  ever  kept 

Rome  waiting,  —  stood  erect,  and  from  his  brain 

Gave  Rome  out  on  its  ancient  place  again, 

Ay,  bade  proceed  with  Brutus'  Rome,  kings  styled 

Themselves  mere  citizens  of,  and,  beguiled 

Into  great  thoughts  thereby,  would  choose  the  gem 

Out  of  a  lapful,  spoil  their  diadem 

—  The  Senate's  cipher  was  so  hard  to  scratch ! 

He  flashes  like  a  phanal,  all  men  catch 

The  flame,  Rome's  just  accomplished  !  when  returned 

Otho,  with  John,  the  Consul's  step  had  spurned, 

And  Hugo  Lord  of  Este,  to  redress 

The  wrongs  of  each.     Crescentius  in  the  stress 


HOW   IF,   IN    THE   RE-INTEGRATION    OF    ROME,       147 

Of  adverse  fortune  bent.     "  They  crucified 

Their  Consul  in  the  Forum,  and  abide 

E'er  since  such  slaves  at  Rome,  that  I  —  (for  I 

Was  once  a  brown-sleeve  brother,  merrily 

Appointed)  —  I  had  option  to  keep  wife 

Or  keep  brown  sleeves,  and  managed  in  the  strife 

Lose  both.     A  song  of  Rome !  " 

And  Rome,  indeed, 
Robed  at  Goito  in  fantastic  weed, 
The  Mother-City  of  his  Mantuan  days, 
Looked  an  established  point  of  light  whence  rays 
Traversed  the  world ;  for,  all  the  clustered  homes 
Beside  of  men,  seemed  bent  on  being  Romes 
In  their  degree ;  the  question  was,  how  each 
Should  most  resemble  Rome,  clean  out  of  reach. 
Nor,  of  the  great  Two,  either  principle, 
Struggled  to  change  —  but  to  possess  —  Rome,  still, 
Guelf  Rome  or  Ghibellin  Rome. 

Let  Rome  advance ! 

Rome,  as  she  struck  Sordello's  ignorance  — 
How  could  he  doubt  one  moment  ?     Rome  's  the  Cause  ! 
Rome  of  the  Pandects,  all  the  world's  new  laws  — 
Of  the  Capitol,  of  Castle  Angelo ; 
New  structures,  that  inordinately  glow, 
Subdued,  brought  back  to  harmony,  made  ripe   j 
By  many  a  relic  of  the  archetype 
Extant  for  wonder ;  every  upstart  church 
That  hoped  to  leave  old  temples  in  the  lurch, 
Corrected  by  the  Theatre  forlorn 


148        BE    TYPIFIED    THE    TRIUMPH    OF    MANKIND? 

That,  —  as  a  mundane  shell,  its  world  late  born,  — 
Lay  and  o'ershadowed  it.     These  hints  combined, 
Rome  typifies  the  scheme  to  put  mankind 
Once  more  in  full  possession  of  their  rights. 
"  Let  us  have  Rome  again !     On  me  it  lights 
To  build  up  Rome  —  on  me,  the  first  and  last : 
For  such  a  Future  was  endured  the  Past ! " 
And  thus,  in  the  gray  twilight,  forth  he  sprung 
To  give  his  thought  consistency  among 
The  very  People  —  let  their  facts  avail 
Finish  the  dream  grown  from  the  archer's  tale. 


BOOK  THE   FIFTH. 

MANKIND    TRIUMPH    OF   A    SUDDEN  1 

Is  it  the  same  Sordello  in  the  dusk 

As  at  the  dawn  ?  —  merely  a  perished  husk 

Now,  that  arose  a  power  fit  to  build 

Up  Rome  again  ?     The  proud  conception  chilled 

So  soon  ?     Ay,  watch  that  latest  dream  of  thine 

—  A  Rome  indebted  to  no  Palatine, 

Drop  arch  by  arch,  Sordello !     Art  possest 

Of  thy  wish  now  —  rewarded  for  thy  quest 

To-day  among  Ferrara's  squalid  sons  — 

Are  this  and  this  and  this  the  shining  ones 

Meet  for  the  Shining  City  ?     Sooth  to  say, 

Your  favored  tenantry  pursue  their  way 

After  a  fashion !     This  companion  slips 

On  the  smooth  causey,  t'  other  blinkard  trips 

At  his  mooned  sandal.     "  Leave  to  lead  tHe  brawls 

Here  i'  the  atria  ?  "     No,  friend !     He  that  sprawls 

On  aught  but  a  stibadium  .  .  what  his  dues 

Who  puts  the  lustral  vase  to  such  an  use  ? 

O,  huddle  up  the  day's  disasters  !     March, 

Ye  runagates,  and  drop  thou,  arch  by  arch, 

Rome! 

Yet  before  they  quite  disband  —  a  whim  - 
Study  mere  shelter,  now,  for  him,  and  him, 


150   WHY,  THE  WORK  SHOULD  BE  ONE  OF  AGES, 

Nay,  even  the  worst,  — just  house  them !     Any  cave 

Suffices :  throw  out  earth !     A  loophole  ?     Brave ! 

They  ask  to  feel  the  sun  shine,  see  the  grass 

Grow,  hear  the  larks  sing  ?     Dead  art  thou,  alas, 

And  I  am  dead !     But  here  's  our  son  excels 

At  hurdle-weaving  any  Scythian,  fells 

Oak  and  devises  rafters,  dreams  and  shapes 

His  dream  into  a  door-post,  just  escapes 

The  mystery  of  hinges.     Lie  we  both 

Perdue  another  age.     The  goodly  growth 

Of  brick  and  stone !     Our  building-pelt  was  rough, 

But  that  descendant's  garb  suits  well  enough 

A  portico-contriver.     Speed  the  years  — 

What 's  time  to  us  ?  at  last,  a  city  rears 

Itself!  nay,  enter  —  what's  the  grave  to  us? 

Lo,  our  forlorn  acquaintance  carry  thus 

The  head!     Successively  sewer,  forum,  cirque  — 

Last  age,  an  aqueduct  was  counted  work, 

But  now  they  tire  the  artificer  upon 

Blank  alabaster,  black  obsidian, 

—  Careful,  Jove's  face  be  duly  fulgurant, 

And  mother  Venus'  kiss-creased  nipples  pant 

Back  into  pristine  pulpiness,  ere  fixed 

Above  the  baths.     What  difference  betwixt 

This  Rome  and  ours  —  resemblance  what,  between 

That  scurvy  dumb-show  and  this  pageant  sheen  — 

These  Romans  and  our  rabble  ?     Use  thy  wit ! 

The  work  marched :  step  by  step,  —  a  workman  fit 

Took  each,  nor  too  fit,  —  to  one  task,  one  time,  — 


IF   PERFORMED    EQUALLY   AND    THOROUGHLY;     151 

No  leaping  o'er  the  petty  to  the  prime, 

When  just  the  substituting  osier  lithe 

For  brittle  bulrush,  sound  wood  for  soft  withe, 

To  further  loam-and-roughcast-work  a  stage,  — 

Exacts  an  architect,  exacts  an  age : 

No  tables  of  the  Mauritaman  tree 

For  men  whose  maple-log 's  their  luxury ! 

That    way    was    Rome    built.       "Better"    (say    you) 

"m&rge 

At  once  all  workmen  in  the  demiurge, 
ATI  epochs  in  a  lifetime,  every  task 
In  one ! "     So  should  the  sudden  city  bask 
I'  the  day  —  while  those  we  'd  feast  there,  want  the  knack 
Of  keeping  fresh-chalked  gowns  from  speck  and  brack, 
Distinguish  not  rare  peacock  from  vile  swan,  » 

Nor  Mareotic  juice  from  Coecuban. 
"  Enough  of  Rome !     'T  was  happy  to  conceive 
Rome  on  a  sudden,  nor  shall  fate  bereave 
Me  of  that  credit :  for  the  rest,  her  spite 
Is  an  old  story  —  serves  my  folly  right 
By  adding  yet  another  to  the  dull 
List  of  abortions  —  things  proved  beautiful 
Could  they  be  done,  Sordello  cannot  do." 

He  sat  upon  the  terrace,  plucked  and  threw 
The  powdery  aloe-cusps  away,  saw  shift 
Rome's  walls,  and  drop  arch  after  arch,  and  drift 
Mist-like  afar  those  pillars  of  all  stripe, 
Mounds  of  all  majesty.     "  Thou  archetype. 
Last  of  my  dreams  and  loveliest,  depart ! " 


152  AND  A  MAN  CAN  BUT  DO  A  MAN'S  PORTION. 

And  then  a  low  voice  wound  into  his  heart : 
"  Sordello !  "  (low  as  some  old  Pythoness 
Conceding  to  a  Lydian  King's  distress 
The  cause  of  his  long  error  —  one  mistake 
Of  her  past  oracle)  "  Sordello,  wake ! 
God  has  conceded  two  sights  to  a  man  — 
One,  of  men's  whole  work,  time's  completed  plan, 
The  other,  of  the  minute's  work,  man's  first 
Step  to  the  plan's  completeness :  what 's  dispersed 
Save  hope  of  that  supreme  step  which,  descried 
Earliest,  was  meant  still  to  remain  untried 
Only  to  give  you  heart  to  take  your  own 
Step,  and  there  stay  —  leaving  the  rest  alone  ? 
Where  is  the  vanity?     Why  count  as  one 
The  first  step,  with  the  last  step  ?     What  is  gone 
Except  Rome's  aery  magnificence, 
That  last  step  you  'd  take  first  ?  —  an  evidence 
You  were  God :  be  man  now !     Let  those  glances  fall ! 
The  basis,  the  beginning  step  of  all, 
Which  proves  you  just  a  man  —  is  that  gone  too  ? 
Pity  to  disconcert  one  versed  as  you 
In  fate's  ill-nature !  but  its  full  extent 
Eludes  Sordello,  even :  the  veil  rent, 
Readjhe  black  .writing  —  that  collective  man 
Outstrips  the  individualj     Who  began 
The  acknowledged  greatnesses  ?     Ay,  your  own  art 
Shall  serve  us :  put  the  poet's  mimes  apart  — . 
Close  with  the  poet's  self,  and  lo,  a  dim 
Yet  too  plain  form  divides  itself  from  him ! 


THE    LAST    OF    EACH    SERIES    OF   WORKMEN       153 

Alcamo's  song  enmeshes  the  lulled  Isle, 

Woven  into  the  echoes  left  erewhile 

By  Nina,  one  soft  web  of  song :  no  more 

Turning  his  name,  then,  flower-like  o'er  and  o'er ! 

An  elder  poet  in  the  younger's  place  — 

Nina's  the  strength  —  but  Alcamo's  the  grace  : 

Each  neutralizes  each  then !     Search  your  fill ; 

You  get  no  whole  and  perfect  Poet  —  still 

New  Ninas,  Alcamos,  till  time's  midnight 

Shrouds  all  —  or  better  say,  the  shutting  light 

Of  a  forgotten  yesterday.     Dissect 

Every  ideal  workman  —  (to  reject 

In  favor  of  your  fearful  ignorance 

The  thousand  phantasms  eager  to  advance, 

And  point  you  but  to  those  within  your  reach)  — 

Were  you  the  first  who  brought  —  (in  modern  speech) 

The  Multitude  to  be  materialized  ? 

That  loose  eternal  unrest  —  who  devised 

An  apparition  i'  the  midst  ?     The  rout 

Was  checked,  a  breathless  ring  was  formed  about 

That  sudden  flower :  get  round  at  any  risk 

The  gold-rough  pointel,  silver-blazing  disk 

O'  the  lily  !     Swords  across  it !     Reign  thy  reign 

And  serve  thy  frolic  service,  Charlemagne ! 

—  The  very  child  of  over-joy ousness, 

Unfeeling  thence,  strong  therefore :  Strength  by  stress 

Of  Strength  comes  of  that  forehead  confident, 

Those  widened  eyes  expecting  heart's  content, 

A  calm  as  out  of  just-quelled  noise;  nor  swerves 


154       SUMS    UP   IN   HIMSELF   ALL   PREDECESSORS. 

For  doubt,  the  ample  cheek  in  gracious  curves 

Abutting  on  the  upthrust  nether  lip : 

He  wills,  how  should  he  doubt  then  ?     Ages  slip : 

"Was  it  Sordello  pried  into  the  work 

So  far  accomplished,  and  discovered  lurk 

A  company  amid  the  other  clans, 

Only  distinct  in  priests  for  castellans 

And  popes  for  suzerains  (their  rule  confessed 

Its  rule,  their  interest  its  interest, 

Living  for  sake  of  living  —  there  an  end,  — 

Wrapt  in  itself,  no  energy  to  spend 

In  making  adversaries  or  allies), — 

Dived  you  into  its  capabilities 

And  dared  create,  out  of  that  sect,  a  soul 

Should  turn  the  multitude,  already  whole, 

Into  its  body  ?     Speak  plainer !     Is  't  so  sure 

God's  church  lives  by  a  King's  investiture  ? 

Look  to  last  step !  a  staggering  —  a  shock  — 

What 's  mere  sand  is  demolished,  while  the  rock 

Endures  :  a  column  of  black  fiery  dust 

Blots  heaven  —  that  help  was  prematurely  thrust 

Aside,  perchance  !  —  but  the  air  clears,  naught 's  erased 

Of  the  true  outline !     Thus  much  being  firm  based, 

The  other  was  a  scaffold.     See  him  stand 

Buttressed  upon  his  mattock,  Hildebrand 

Of  the  hugh  brain-mask  welded  ply  o'er  ply 

As  in  a  forge ;  it  buries  either  eye 

White  and  extinct,  that  stupid  brow ;  teeth  clenched, 

The  neck  tight-corded,  too,  the  chin  deep-trenched, 


WE   JUST    SEE    CHARLEMAGNE,   HILDEBRAND,      155 

As  if  a  cloud  enveloped  him  while  fought 

Under  its  shade,  grim  prizers,  thought  with  thought 

At  dead-lock,  agonizing  he,  until 

The  victor  thought  leapt  radiant  up,  and  Will, 

The  slave  with  folded  arms  and  drooping  lids 

They  fought  for,  lean  forth  flame-like  as  it  bids. 

Call  him  no  flower  —  a  mandrake  of  the  earth, 

Thwarted  and  dwarfed  and  blasted  in  its  birth, 

Rather,  a  fruit  of  suffering's  excess, 

Thence  feeling,  therefore  stronger :  still  by  stress 

Of  Strength,  work  Knowledge !  Full  three  hundred  years 

Have  men  to  wear  away  in  smiles  and  tears 

Between  the  two  that  nearly  seem  to  touch, 

Observe  you !  quit  one  workman  and  you  clutch 

Another,  letting  both  their  trains  go  by  — 

The  actors-out  of  cither's  policy, 

Heinrich,  on  this  hand,  Otho,  Barbaross, 

Carry  the  three  Imperial  crowns  across, 

Aix'  Iron,  Milan's  Silver,  and  Rome's  Gold  — 

While  Alexander,  Innocent  uphold 

On  that,  each  Papal  key  —  but,  link  on  link, 

Why  is  it  neither  chain  betrays  a  chink  ? 

How  coalesce  the  small  and  great  ?     Alack, 

For  one  thrust  forward,  fifty  such  fall  back ! 

Do  the  popes  coupled  there  help  Gregory 

Alone  ?  Hark  —  from  the  hermit  Peter's  cry 

At  Claremont,  down  to  the  first  serf  that  says 

Friedrich  's  no  liege  of  his  while  he  delays 

Getting  the  Pope's  curse  off  him !     The  Crusade  — 


156    IN    COMPOSITE    WORK   THEY   END    AND    NAME. 

Or  trick  of  breeding  strength  by  other  aid 

Than  strength,  is  safe.     Hark  —  from  the  wild  harangue 

Of  Vimmercato,  to  the  carroch's  clang 

Yonder !     The  League  —  or  trick  of  turning  strength 

Against  pernicious  strength,  is  safe  at  length. 

Yet  hark  —  from  Mantuan  Albert  making  cease 

The  fierce  ones,  to  Saint  Francis  preaching  peace 

Yonder !     God's  Truce  —  or  trick  to  supersede 

The  very  use  of  strength,  is  safe.     Indeed 

We  trench  upon  the  Future !     Who  is  found 

To  take  next  step,  next  age  —  trail  o'er  the  ground  — 

Shall  I  say,  gourd-like  ?  —  not  the  flower's  display 

Nor  the  root's  prowess,  but  the  plenteous  way 

O'  the  plant  —  produced  by  joy  and  sorrow,  whence 

Unfeeling  and  yet  feeling,  strongest  thence  ? 

Knowledge  by  stress  of  merely  Knowledge  ?     No  — 

E'en  were  Sordello  ready  to  forego 

His  life  for  this,  't  were  overleaping  work 

Some  one  has  first  to  do,  howe'er  it  irk, 

Nor  stray  a  foot's  breadth  from  the  beaten  road. 

Who  means  to  help  must  still  support  the  load 

Hildebrand  lifted  — '  why  hast  Thou/  he  groaned, 

'  Imposed  on  me  a  burden,  Paul  had  moaned, 

And  Moses  dropped  beneath  ? '     Much  done  —  and  yet 

Doubtless,  that  grandest  task  God  ever  set 

On  man,  left  much  to  do :  at  his  arm's  wrench, 

Charlemagne's  scaffold  fell ;  but  pillars  blench 

Merely,  start  back  again  —  perchance  have  been 

Taken  for  buttresses :  crash  every  screen, 


IF    ASSOCIATES    TROUBLE    YOU,    STAND    OFF!      157 

Hammer  the  tenons  better,  and  engage 

A  gang  about  your  work,  for  the  next  age 

Or  two,  of  Knowledge,  part  by  Strength  and  part 

By  Knowledge !     Then,  indeed,  perchance  may  start 

Sordello  on  his  race  —  would  time  divulge 

Such  secrets !     If  one  step  's  awry,  one  bulge 

Calls  for  correction  by  a  step  we  thought 

Got  over  long  since,  why,  till  that  is  wrought, 

No  progress !  and  the  scaffold  in  its  turn 

Becomes,  its  service  o'er,  a  thing  to  spurn. 

Meanwhile,  if  your  half-dozen  years  of  life 

In  store,  dispose  you  to  forego  the  strife, 

Who  takes  exception  ?     Only  bear  in  mind, 

Ferrara  's  reached,  Goito  's  left  behind : 

As  you  then  were,  as  half  yourself,  desist ! 

—  The  warrior-part  of  you  may,  an  it  list, 

Finding  real  faulchions  difficult  to  poise, 

Fling  them  afar  and  taste  the  cream  of  joys 

By  wielding  such  in  fancy,  —  what  is  bard 

Of  you,  may  spurn  the  vehicle  that  marred 

Elys  so  much,  and  in  free  fancy  glut 

His  sense,  yet  write  no  verses  —  you  have  but 

To  please  yourself  for  law,  and  once  could  please 

What  once  appeared  yourself,  by  dreaming  these 

Rather  than  doing  these,  in  days  gone  by. 

But  all  is  changed  the  moment  you  descry 

Mankind  as  half  yourself,  —  then,  fancy's  trade 

Ends  once  and  always :  how  may  half  evade 

The  other  half?  men  are  found  half  of  you. 


158    SHOULD    THE   NEW    SYMPATHIES   ALLOW   YOU. 

Out  of  a  thousand  helps,  just  one  or  two 
Can  be  accomplished  presently  :  but  flinch 
From  these  (as  from  the  faulchion,  raised  an  inch, 
Elys,  described  a  couplet)  and  make  proof 
Of  fancy,  —  then,  while  one  half  lolls  aloof 
I'  the  vines,  completing  Rome  to  the  tip-top  — 
See  if,  for  that,  your  other  half  will  stop 
A  tear,  begin  a  smile !     The  rabble's  woes, 
Ludicrous  in  their  patience  as  they  chose 
To  sit  about  their  town  and  quietly 
Be  slaughtered,  —  the  poor  reckless  soldiery, 
"With  their  ignoble  rhymes  on  Richard,  how 
'  Polt-foot,'  sang  they,  *  was  in  a  pitfall  now,' 
Cheering  each  other  from  the  engine-mounts,  — 
That  crippled  spawling  idiot  who  recounts 
How,  lopt  of  limbs,  he  lay,  stupid  as  stone, 
Till  the  pains  crept  from  out  him  one  by  one, 
And  wriggles  round  the  archers  on  his  head 
To  earn  a  morsel  of  their  chestnut  bread,  — 
And  Cino,  always  in  the  selfsame  place 
Weeping ;  beside  that  other  wretch's  case, 
Eyepits  to  ear,  one  gangrene  since  he  plied 
The  engine  in  his  coat  of  raw  sheep's  hide 
A  double  watch  in  the  noon  sun  ;  and  see 
Lucchino,  beauty,  with  the  favors  free, 
Trim  hacqueton,  spruce  beard  and  scented  hair, 
Campaigning  it  for  the  first  time  —  cut  there 
In  two  already,  boy  enough  to  crawl 
For  latter  orpine  round  the  southern  wall, 


TIME   HAVING    BEEN   LOST,    CHOOSE    QUICK!       159 

Toma,  where  Richard 's  kept,  because  that  whore 

Marfisa,  the  fool  never  saw  before, 

Sickened  for  flowers  this  wearisomest  siege : 

And  Tiso's  wife  —  men  liked  their  pretty  liege, 

Cared  for  her  least  of  whims  once,  —  Berta,  wed 

A  twelvemonth  gone,  and,  now  poor  Tiso  's  dead, 

Delivering  herself  of  his  first  child 

On  that  chance  heap  of  wet  filth,  reconciled 

To  fifty  gazers ! "  —  (Here  a  wind  below 

Made  moody  music  augural  of  woe 

From  the  pine  barrier)  —  "  What  if,  now  the  scene 

Draws  to  a  close,  yourself  have  really  been 

—  You,  plucking  purples  in  Goito's  moss 

Like  edges  of  a  trabea  (not  to  cross 

Your  consul-humor)  or  dry  aloe-shafts 

For  fasces,  at  Ferrara  —  he,  fate  wafts, 

This  very  age,  her  whole  inheritance 

Of  opportunities  ?     Yet  you  advance 

Upon  the  last !     Since  talking  is  your  trade, 

There  's  Salinguerra  left  you  to  persuade : 

Fail!  then"  — 

"  No  —  no  —  which  latest  chance  secure ! " 
Leapt  up  and  cried  Sordello  :  "  this  made  sure, 
The^Past  were  yet  redeemable]  its  work 
Was  —  help  the  Guelfs,  whom  I,  howe'er  it  irk, 
Thus  help ! "     He  shook  the  foolish  aloe-haulm 
Out  of  his  doublet,  paused,  proceeded  calm 
To  the  appointed  presence.     The  large  head 
Turned  on  its  socket ;  "  And  your  spokesman,"  said 


160        HE    TAKES    HIS    FIRST    STEP   AS    A    GUELF ; 

The  large  voice,  u  is  Elcorte's  happy  sprout  ? 
Few  such  "  —  (so  finishing  a  speech  no  doubt 
Addressed  to  Palma,  silent  at  his  side) 

—  "  My  sober  councils  have  diversified. 
Elcorte's  son  !  good :  forward  as  you  may, 
Our  lady's  minstrel  with  so  much  to  say ! " 
The  hesitating  sunset  floated  back, 
Rosily  traversed  in  the  wonted  track 

The  chamber,  from  the  lattice  o'er  the  girth 

Of  pines,  to  the  huge  eagle  blacked  in  earth 

Opposite,  —  outlined  sudden,  spur  to  crest, 

That  solid  Salinguerra,  and  caressed 

Palma's  contour ;  't  was  Day  looped  back  Night's  pall ; 

Sordello  had  a  chance  left  spite  of  all. 

And  much  he  made  of  the  convincing  speech 
He  meant  should  compensate  the  Past  and  reach 
Through  his  youth's  daybreak  of  unprofit,  quite 
To  his  noon's  labor,  so  proceed  till  night 
Leisurely !     The  great  argument  to  bind 
Taurello  with  the  Guelf  Cause,  body  and  mind, 

—  Came  the  consummate  rhetoric  to  that  ? 
Yet  most  Sordello's  argument  dropped  flat 
Through  his  accustomed  fault  of  breaking  yoke, 
Disjoining  him  who  felt  from  him  who  spoke. 
"Was  't  not  a  touching  incident  —  so  prompt 

A  rendering  the  world  its  just  accompt, 

Once  proved  its  debtor  ?     Who  'd  suppose,  before 

This  proof,  that  he,  Goito's  god  of  yore, 

At  duty's  instance  could  demean  himself 


BUT  TO  WILL  AND  TO  DO  ABE  DIFFERENT:  161 

So  memorably,  dwindle  to  a  Guelf  ? 

Be  sure,  in  such  delicious  flattery  steeped, 

His  inmost  self  at  the  out-portion  peeped 

Thus  occupied  ;  then  stole  a  glance  at  those 

Appealed  to,  curious  if  her  color  rose 

Or  his  lip  moved,  Avhile  he  discreetly  urged 

The  need  of  Lombardy's  becoming  purged 

At  soonest  of  her  barons  ;  the  poor  part 

Abandoned  thus,  missing  the  blood  at  heart 

And  spirit  in  brain,  unseasonably  off 

Elsewhere !     But,  though  his  speech  was  worthy  scoff, 

Good-humored  Salinguerra,  famed  for  tact 

And  tongue,  who,  careless  of  his  phrase,  ne'er  lacked 

The  right  phrase,  and  harangued  Honorius  dumb 

At  his  accession,  —  looked  as  all  fell  plumb 

To  purpose  and  himself  found  interest 

In  every  point  his  new  instructor  pressed 

—  Left  playing  with  the  rescript's  white  wax  seal 

To  scrutinize  Bordello  head  and  heel. 

Then  means  he  yield  assent  sure  ?     No,  alas ! 

All  he  replied  was,  "  What,  it  comes  to  pass 

That  poesy,  sooner  than  politics, 

Makes  fade  young  hair  ?  "  To  think  such  speech  could  fix 

Taurello ! 

Then  a  flash  of  bitter  truth : 
So  fantasies  could  break  and  fritter  yo»th 
That  he  had  long  ago  lost  earnestness, 
Lost  will  to  work,  lost  power  to  even  express 
The  need  of  working !     Earth  was  turned  a  grave  : 


162      HE    MAT    SLEEP    ON    THE    BED    HE   HAS    MADE. 

No  more  occasions  now,  though  he  should  crave 

Just  one,  in  right  of  superhuman  toil, 

To  do  what  was  undone,  repair  such  spoil, 

Alter  the  Past  —  nothing  would  give  the  chance ! 

Not  that  he  was  to  die :  he  saw  askance 

Protract  the  ignominious  years  beyond 

To  dream  in  —  time  to  hope  and  time  despond, 

Remember  and  forget,  be  sad,  rejoice 

As  saved  a  trouble ;  he  might,  at  his  choice, 

One  way  or  other,  idle  life  out,  drop 

No  few  smooth  verses  by  the  way  —  for  prop, 

A  thyrsus,  these  sad  people,  all  the  same, 

Should  pick  up,  and  set  store  by,  —  far  from  blame, 

Plant  o'er  his  hearse,  convinced  his  better  part 

Survived  him.     "  Rather  tear  men  out  the  heart 

Of  the  truth ! "  —  Sordello  muttered,  and  renewed 

His  propositions  for  the  Multitude. 

But  Salinguerra,  who  at  this  attack 
Had  thrown  great  breast  and  ruffling  corslet  back 
To  hear  the  better,  smilingly  resumed 
His  task ;  beneath,  the  carroch's  warning  boomed ; 
He  must  decide  with  Tito  ;  courteously 
He  turned  then,  even  seeming  to  agree 
With  his  admonisher  —  "  Assist  the  Pope, 
Extend  Guelf  domination,  fill  the  scope 
Of  the  Church,  thus  based  on  All,  by  All,  for  All  — 
Change  Secular  to  Evangelical "  — 
Echoing  his  very  sentence :  all  seemed  lost, 
When  sudden  he  looked  up,  laughingly  almost, 


SCORN   FLINGS    COLD    WATER   IN   HIS   FACE,       163 

To  Palma :  "  This  opinion  of  your  friend's  — 

For  instance,  would  it  answer  Palma's  ends  ? 

Best,  were  it  not,  turn  Guelf,  submit  our  Strength  "  — 

(Here  he  drew  out  his  baldric  to  its  length) 

—  "  To  the  Pope's  Knowledge  —  let  our  captive  slip, 
Wide  to  the  walls  throw  ope  our  gates,  equip 

Azzo  with  .  .  .  what  I  hold  here  ?     Who  '11  subscribe 
To  a  trite  censure  of  the  minstrel  tribe 
Henceforward  ?  or  pronounce,  as  Heinrich  used, 
i  Spear-heads  for  battle,  burr-heads  for  the  joust ! ' 

—  When  Constance,  for  his  couplets,  would  promote 
Alcamo,  from  a  parti-colored  coat, 

To  holding  her  lord's  stirrup  in  the  wars. 
Not  that  I  see  where  couplet-making  jars 
With  common  sense :  at  Mantua  I  had  borne 
This  chanted,  better  than  their  most  forlorn 
Of  bull-baits,  —  that 's  indisputable !  " 

Brave ! 

Whom  vanity  nigh  slew,  contempt  shall  save ! 
All 's  at  an  end :  a  Troubadour  suppose 
Mankind  will  class  him  with  their  friends  or  foes  ? 
A  puny  uncouth  ailing  vassal  think 
The  world  and  him  bound  in  some  special  link  ? 
Abrupt  the  visionary  tether  burst  — 
What  were  rewarded  here,  or  what  amerced 
If  a  poor  drudge,  solicitous  to  dream 
Deservingly,  got  tangled  by  his  theme 
So  far  as  to  conceit  the  knack  or  gift 
Or  whatsoe'er  it  be,  of  verse,  might  lift 


164      AROUSES   HIM   AT   LAST,   TO    SOME   PURPOSE, 

The  globe,  a  lever  like  the  hand  and  head 
Of —  "  Men  of  Action,"  as  the  Jongleurs  said, 
—  "  The  Great  Men,"  in  the  people's  dialect  ? 

And  not  a  moment  did  this  scorn  affect 
Sordello :  scorn  the  poet  ?     They,  for  once, 
Asking  "  what  was,"  obtained  a  full  response. 
Bid  Naddo  think   at  Mantua,  he  had  but 
To  look  into  his  promptuary,  put 
Finger  on  a  set  thought  in  a  set  speech : 
But  was  Sordello  fitted  thus  for  each 
Conjecture  ?     Nowise ;  since,  within  his  soul, 
Perception  brooded  unexpressed  and  whole. 
A  healthy  spirit  like  a  healthy  frame 
Craves  aliment  in  plenty  —  all  the  same, 
Changes,  assimilates  its  aliment. 
Perceived  Sordello,  on  a  truth  intent  ? 
Next  day  no  formularies  more  you  saw 
Than  figs  or  olives  in  a  sated  maw. 
'T  is  Knowledge,  whither  such  perceptions  tend ; 
They  lose  themselves  in  that,  means  to  an  end, 
The  many  old  producing  some  one  new, 
A  last  unlike  the  first.     If  lies  are  true, 
The  Caliph's  wheel-work  man  of  brass  receives 
A  meal,  munched  millet  grains  and  lettuce  leaves 
Together  in  his  stomach  rattle  loose  — 
You  find  them  perfect  next  day  to  produce ; 
But  ne'er  expect  the  man,  on  strength  of  that, 
Can  roll  an  iron  camel-collar  flat 
Like  Haroun's  self !     I  tell  you,  what  was  stored 


AND    THUS    GETS    THE    UTMOST    OUT    OF    HIM.       165 

Bit  by  bit  through  Sordello's  life,  outpoured 

That  eve,  was,  for  that  age,  a  novel  thing : 

And  round  those  three  the  people  formed  a  ring, 

Of  visionary  judges  whose  award 

He  recognized  in  full  —  faces  that  barred 

Henceforth  return  to  the  old  careless  life, 

In  whose  great  presence,  therefore,  his  first  strife 

For  their  sake  must  not  be  ignobly  fought. 

All  these,  for  once,  approved  of  him,  he  thought, 

Suspended  their  own  vengeance,  chose  await 

The  issue  of  this  strife  to  reinstate 

Them  in  the  right  of  taking  it  —  in  fact 

He  must  be  proved  king  ere  they  could  exact 

Vengeance  for  such  king's  defalcation.     Last, 

A  reason  why  the  phrases  flowed  so  fast 

Was  in  his  quite  forgetting  for  a  time 

Himself  in  his  amazement  that  the  rhyme 

Disguised  the  royalty  so  much :  he  there  — 

And  Salinguerra  —  and  yet  unaware 

Who  was  the  lord,  who  liegeman ! 

"  Thus  I  lay 

On  thine  my  spirit  and  compel  obey 
His  lord,  —  my  liegeman,  —  impotent  to  build 
Another  Rome,  but  hardly  so  unskilled 
In  what  such  builder  should  have  been,  as  brook 
One  shame  beyond  the  charge  that  I  forsook 
His  function !     Free  me  from  that  shame,  I  bend 
A  brow  before,  suppose  new  years  to  spend, 
Allow  each  chance,  nor  fruitlessly,  recur  — 


166      HE   ASSERTS    THE   POET'S    RANK    AND   RIGHT, 

Measure  thee  with  the  Minstrel,  then,  demur 

At  any  crown  he  claims  !     That  I  must  cede 

Shamed  now,  my  right  to  my  especial  meed  — 

Confess  thee  fitter  help  the  world  than  I 

Ordained  its  champion  from  eternity, 

Is  much :  but  to  behold  thee  scorn  the  post 

I  quit  in  thy  behalf — to  hear  thee  boast 

What  makes  my  own  despair ! "     And  while  he  rung 

The  changes  on  this  theme,  the  roof  up-sprung, 

The  sad  walls  of  the  presence-chamber  died 

Into  the  distance,  or  embowering  vied 

With  far-away  Goito's  vine-frontier ; 

And  crowds  of  faces  —  (only  keeping  clear 

The  rose-light  in  the  midst,  his  vantage-ground 

To  fight  their  battle  from)  —  deep  clustered  round 

Sordello,  with  good  wishes  no  mere  breath, 

Kind  prayers  for  him  no  vapor,  since,  come  death, 

Come  life,  he  was  fresh-sinewed  every  joint, 

Each  bone  ne'w-marrowed  as  whom  Gods  anoint 

Though  mortal  to  their  rescue :  now  let  sprawl 

The  snaky  volumes  hither !     Is  Typhon  all 

For  Hercules  to  trample  —  good  report 

From  Salinguerra  only  to  extort  ? 

"  So  was  I"  (closed  he  his  inculcating, 

A  poet  must  be  earth's  essential  king) 

"  So  was  I,  royal  so,  and  if  I  fail, 

'T  is  not  the  royalty,  ye  witness  quail, 

But  one  deposed  who,  caring  not  exert 

Its  proper  essence,  trifled  malapert 


BASING   THESE    ON    THEIR   PROPER    GROUND,       167 

With  accidents  instead  —  good  things  assigned 
As  heralds  of  a  better  thing  behind  — 
And,  worthy  through  display  of  these,  put  forth 
Never  the  inmost  all-surpassing  worth 
That  constitutes  him  King  precisely  since 
As  yet  no  other  spirit  may  evince 
Its  like :  the  power  he  took  most  pride  to  test, 
Whereby  all  forms  of  life  had  been  professed 
At  pleasure,  forms  already  on  the  earth, 
Was  but  a  means  to  power  beyond,  whose  birth 
Should,  in  its  novelty,  be  kingship's  proof. 
Now,  whether  he  came  near  or  kept  aloof 
The  several  forms  he  longed  to  imitate, 
Not  there  the  kingship  lay,  he  sees  too  late. 
Those  forms,  unalterable  first  as  last, 
Proved  him  her  copier,  not  the  protoplast 
Of  nature  :  what  could  come  of  being  free 
By  action  to  exhibit  tree  for  tree, 
Bird,  beast,  for  beast  and  bird,  or  prove  earth  bore 
One  veritable  man  or  woman  more  ? 
Means  to  an  end,  such  proofs  are :  what  the  end  ? 
Let  essence,  whatsoe'er  it  be,  extend  — 
Never  contract !     Already  you  include 
The  multitude  ;  then  let  the  multitude 
Include  yourself;  and  the  result  were  new  : 
Themselves  before,  the  multitude  turn  you. 
This  were  to  live  and  move  and  have,  in  them, 
JYour  being,  and  secure  a  diadem 
You  should  transmit  (because  no  cycle  yearns 


168        RECOGNIZING   TRUE    DIGNITY   IN    SERVICE, 

Beyond  itself,  but  on  itself  returns) 

"When,  the  full  sphere  in  wane,  the  world  o'erlaid 

Long  since  with  you,  shall  have  in  turn  obeyed 

Some  orb  still  prouder,  some  displayer,  still 

More  potent  than  the  last,  of  human  will, 

And  some  new  King  depose  the  old.     Of  such 

Am  I  —  whom  pride  of  this  elates  too  much  ? 

Safe,  rather  say,  'mid  troops  of  peers  again ; 

I,  with  my  words,  hailed  brother  of  the  train 

Deeds  once  sufficed :  for,  let  the  world  roll  back, 

Who  fails,  through  deeds  howe'er  diverse,  re-track 

My  purpose  still,  my  task  ?     A  teeming  crust  — 

Air,  flame,  earth,  wave  at  conflict !     Then,  needs  must 

Emerge  some  Calm  embodied,  these  refer 

The  brawl  to ;  —  yellow-bearded  Jupiter  ? 

No !  Saturn ;  some  existence  like  a  pact 

And  protest  against  Chaos,  some  first  fact 

I'  the  faint  of  time.     My  deep  of  life,  I  know, 

Is  unavailing  e'en  to  poorly  show  "... 

(For  here  the  Chief  immeasurably  yawned) 

..."  Deeds  in  their  due  gradation  till  Song  dawned  — 

The  fullest  effluence  of  the  finest  mind, 

All  in  degree,  no  way  diverse  in  kind 

From  minds  about  it,  minds  which,  more  or  less 

Lofty  or  low,  move  seeking  to  impress 

Themselves  on  somewhat ;  but  one  mind  has  climbed 

Step  after  step,  by  just  ascent  sublimed. 

Thought  is  the  soul  of  act,  and,  stage  by  stage, 

Is  soul  from  body  still  to  disengage 


WHETHER    SUCCESSIVELY  THAT    OF    EPOIST,       169 

As  tending  to  a  freedom  which  rejects 
Such  help  and  incorporeally  affects 
The  world,  producing  deeds  but  not  by  deeds, 
Swaying,  in  others,  frames  itself  exceeds, 
Assigning  them  the  simpler  tasks  it  used 
To  patiently  perform  till  Song  produced 
ActSj  by  thoughts  only,  for  the  mind :  divest 
Mind  of  e'en  Thought,  and,  lo,  God's  unexpressed 
Will  dawns  above  us !     All  then  is  to  win 
Save  that !     How  much  for  me,  then  ?  where  begin 
My  work  ?     About  me,  faces !  and  they  flock, 
The  earnest  faces !     What  shall  I  unlock 
By  song  ?  behold  me  prompt,  whate'er  it  be, 
To  minister :  how  much  can  mortals  see 
Of  Life  ?     No  more  than  so  ?  I  take  the  task 
And  marshal  you  Life's  elemental  masque, 
Show  Men,  on  evil  or  on  good  lay  stress, 
This  light,  this  shade  make  prominent,  suppress 
All  ordinary  hues  that  softening  blend 
Such  natures  with  the  level.     Apprehend 
Which  sinner  is,  which  saint,  if  I  allot 
Hell,  Purgatory,  Heaven,  a  blaze  or  blot, 
To  those  you  doubt  concerning !     I  enwomb 
Some  wretched  Friedrich  with  his  red-hot  tomb ; 
Some  dubious  spirit,  Lombard  Agilulph 
With  the  black  chastening  river  I  engulph  ; 
Some  unapproached  Matilda  I  enshrine 
With  languors  of  the  planet  of  decline  — • 
These,  fail  to  recognize,  to  arbitrate 
8 


170      DRAMATIST,    OR,    SO    TO    CALL    HIM,    ANALYST, 

Between  henceforth,  to  rightly  estimate 

Thus  marshalled  in  the  masque !     Myself,  the  while, 

As  one  of  you,  am  witness,  shrink  or  smile 

At  my  own  showing !     Next  age  —  what 's  to  do  ? 

The  men  and  women  stationed  hitherto 

Will  I  unstation,  good  and  bad,  conduct 

Each  nature  to  its  farthest,  or  obstruct 

At  soonest,  in  the  world :  light,  thwarted,  breaks 

A  limpid  purity  to  rainbow  flakes, 

Or  shadow,  massed,  freezes  to  gloom :  behold 

How  such,  with  fit  assistance  to  unfold, 

Or  obstacles  to  crush  them,  disengage 

Their  forms,  love,  hate,  hope,  fear,  peace  make,  war  wage, 

In  presence  of  you  all !     Myself,  implied 

Superior  now,  as,  by  the  platform's  side, 

I  bade  them  do  and  suffer,  —  would  last  content 

The  world  ...  no  —  that 's  too  far !     I  circumvent 

A  few,  my  masque  contented,  and  to  these 

Offer  unveil  the  last  of  mysteries  — 

Man's  inmost  life  shall  have  yet  freer  play  : 

Once  more  I  cast  external  things  away, 

And  natures  composite,  so  decompose 

That"  .  .  .  Why,  he  writes  Sordello ! 

"  How  I  rose, 

And  how  have  you  advanced  !  since  evermore 
Yourselves  effect  what  I  was  fain  before 
Effect,  what  I  supplied  yourselves  suggest, 
What  I  leave  bare  yourselves  can  now  invest. 
How  we  attain  to  talk  as  brothers  talk, 


WHO    TURNS    IN    DUE    COURSE    SYNTHETIST.       171 

In  half-words,  call  things  by  half-names,  no  balk 
From  discontinuing  old  aids.     To-day- 
Takes  in  account  the  work  of  Yesterday  : 
Has  not  the  world  a  Past  now,  its  adept 
Consults  ere  he  dispense  with  or  accept 
New  aids  ?  a  single  touch  more  may  enhance, 
A  touch  less  turn  to  insignificance 
Those  structures'  symmetry  the  Past  has  strewed 
The  world  with,  once  so  bare.     Leave  the  mere  rude 
Explicit  details !  't  is  but  brother's  speech 
We  need,  speech  where  an  accent's  change  gives  each 
The  other's  soul  —  no  speech  to  understand 
By  former  audience :  need  was  then  to  expand, 
Expatiate  —  hardly  were  we  brothers !  true  — 
Nor  I  lament  my  small  remove  from  you, 
Nor  reconstruct  what  stands  already.     Ends 
Accomplished  turn  to  means :  my  artjntends 
New  structure  from  the  ancient :  as  they  changed 
The  spoils  of  every  clime  at  Venice,  ranged 
The  horned  and  snouted  Libyan  god,  upright 
As  in  his  desert,  by  some  simple  bright 
Clay  cinerary  pitcher  —  Thebes  as  Rome, 
Athens  as  Byzant  rifled,  till  their  Dome 
From  earth's  reputed  consummations  razed 
A  seal,  the  all-transmuting  Triad  blazed 
Above.     Ah,  whose  that  fortune  ?  ne'ertheless 
E'en  he  must  stoop  contented  to  express 
No  tithe  of  what 's  to  say  —  the  vehicle 
Never  sufficient :  but  his  work  is  still 


172  THIS  FOR  ONE  DAT:  NOW,  SERVE  AS  GUELF! 

For  faces  like  the  faces  that  select 

The  single  service  I  am  bound  effect, 

And  bid  me  cast  aside  such  fancies,  bow 

Taurello  to  the  Guelf  cause,  disallow 

The  Kaiser's  coming  —  which  with  heart,  soul,  strength, 

I  labor  for,  this  eve,  who  feel  at  length 

My  past  career's  outrageous  vanity, 

And  would,  as  it  amends,  die,  even  die 

Now  I  first  estimate  the  boon  of  life, 

If  death  might  win  compliance  —  sure,  this  strife 

Is  right  for  once  —  the  People  my  support." 

My  poor  Sordello !  what  may  we  extort 
By  this,  I  wonder  ?     Palma's  lighted  eyes 
Turned  to  Taurello  who,  long  past  surprise, 
Began,  "  You  love  him  —  what  you  'd  say  at  large 
Let  me  say  briefly.     First,  your  father's  charge 
To  me,  his  friend,  peruse  :  I  guessed  indeed 
You  were  no  stranger  to  the  course  decreed. 
He  bids  me  leave  his  children  to  the  saints : 
As  for  a  certain  project,  he  acquaints 
The  Pope  with  that,  and  offers  him  the  best 
Of  your  possessions  to  permit  the  rest 
Go  peaceably  —  to  Ecelin,  a  stripe 
Of  soil  the  cursed  Vicentines  will  gripe, 
—  To  Alberic,  a  patch  the  Trevisan 
Clutches  already ;  extricate,  who  can, 
Treville,  Villarazzi,  Puissolo, 
Cartiglione,  Loria !  —  all  go, 
And  with  them  go  my  hopes.     'T  is  lost,  then  !     Lost 


SALINGUERRA,    DISLODGED    FROM   HIS    POST,      173 

This  eve,  our  crisis,  and  some  pains  it  cost 

Procuring ;  thirty  years  —  as  good  I  'd  spent 

Like  our  adnionisher !     But  each  his  bent 

Pursues :  no  question,  one  might  live  absurd 

One's  self  this  while,  by  deed  as  he  by  word, 

Persisting  to  obtrude  an  influence  where 

'T  is  made  account  of,  much  as  ...  nay,  you  fare 

With  twice  the  fortune,  youngster  !  —  I  submit, 

Happy  to  parallel  my  waste  of  wit 

With  the  renowned  Sordello's :  you  decide 

A  course  for  me.     Romano  may  abide 

Romano,  —  Bacchus  !     After  all,  what  dearth 

Of  Ecelins  and  Alberics  on  earth  ? 

Say  there  's  a  prize  in  prospect,  must  disgrace 

Betide  competitors,  unless  they  style 

Themselves  Romano  ?  were  it  worth  my  while 

To  try  my  own  luck !     But  an  obscure  place 

Suits  me  —  there  wants  a  youth  to  bustle,  stalk 

And  attitudinize  —  some  fight,  more  talk, 

Most  flaunting  badges  —  how,  I  might  make  clear, 

Since  Friedrich's  very  purposes  lie  here 

—  Here,  pity  they  are  like  to  lie !     For  me, 

With  station  fixed  unceremoniously 

Long  since,  small  use  contesting ;  I  am  but 

The  liegeman,  you  are  born  the  lieges  —  shut 

That  gentle  mouth  now !  or  resume  your  kin 

In  your  sweet  self;  were  Palma  Ecelin 

For  me  to  work  with  !     Could  that  neck  endure 

This  bauble  for  a  cumbrous  garniture, 


174       IN   MOYIN&,    OPENS    A   DOOR   TO    BORDELLO, 

She  should  ...  or  might  one  bear  it  for  her  ?     Stay  — 

I  have  not  been  so  flattered  many  a  day 

As  by  your  pale  friend  —  Bacchus  !     The  least  help 

Would  lick  the  hind's  fawn  to  a  lion's  whelp  — 

His  neck  is  broad  enough  —  a  ready  tongue 

Beside  —  too  writhled  —  but,  the  main  thing,  young  — 

I  could  . . .  why,  look  ye  ! " 

And  the  badge  was  thrown 
Across  Sordello's  neck :  "  This  badge  alone 
Makes  you  Romano's  Head  —  becomes  superb 
On  your  bare  neck,  which  would,  on  mine,  disturb 
The  pauldron,"  said  Taurello.     A  mad  act, 
Not  even  dreamed  about  before  —  in  fact, 
Not  when  his  sportive  arm  rose  for  the  nonce  — 
But  he  had  dallied  overmuch,  this  once, 
With  power :  the  thing  was  done,  and  he,  aware 
The  thing  was  done,  proceeded  to  declare  — 
(So  like  a  nature  made  to  serve,  excel 
In  serving,  only  feel  by  service  well !) 
• —  That  he  would  make  Sordello  that  and  more. 
"  As  good  a  scheme  as  any !     What 's  to  pore 
At  in  my  face  ?  "  he  asked  —  ponder  instead 
This  piece  of  news ;  you  are  Romano's  Head  ! 
One  cannot  slacken  pace  so  near  the  goal, 
Suffer  my  Azzo  to  escape  heart-whole 
This  time !     For  you  there  's  Palma  to  espouse  — 
For  me,  one  crowning  trouble  ere  I  house 
Like  my  compeer." 

On  which  ensued  a  strange 


WHO    IS    DECLARED    SALINGUERRA's    SON.          175 

And  solemn  visitation ;  there  came  change 

O'er  every  one  of  them ;  each  looked  on  each  : 

Up  in  the  midst  a  truth  grew,  without  speech. 

And  when  the  giddiness  sank  and  the  haze 

Subsided,  they  were  sitting,  no  amaze, 

Sordello  with  the  baldric  on,  his  sire 

Silent,  though  his  proportions  seemed  aspire 

Momently ;  and,  interpreting  the  thrill 

Nigh  at  its  ebb,  Palma  was  found  there  still 

Relating  somewhat  Adelaide  confessed 

A  year  ago,  while  dying  on  her  breast,  — 

Of  a  contrivance  that  Vicenza  night, 

When  Ecelin  had  birth.     "  Their  convoy's  flight, 

Cut  off  a  moment,  coiled  inside  the  flame 

That  wallowed  like  a  dragon  at  his  game 

The  toppling  city  through  —  San  Biagio  rocks ! 

And  wounded  lies  in  her  delicious  locks 

Retrude,  the  frail  mother,  on  her  face, 

None  of  her  wasted,  just  in  one  embrace 

Covering  her  child :  when,  as  they  lifted  her, 

Cleaving  the  tumult,  mighty,  mightier 

And  mightiest  Taurello's  cry  outbroke, 

Leapt  like  a  tongue  of  fire  that  cleaves  the  smoke, 

Midmost  to  cheer  his  Mantuans  onward  —  drown 

His  colleague  Ecelin's  clamor,  up  and  down 

The  disarray :  failed  Adelaide  see  then 

Who  was  the  natural  chief,  the  man  of  men  ? 

Outstripping  time,  her  infant  there  burst  swathe, 

Stood  up  with  eyes  haggard  beyond  the  scathe 


176       HIDDEN    HITHERTO    BY   ADELAIDE'S    POLICY. 

From  wandering  after  his  heritage 

Lost  once  and  lost  for  aye  —  and  why  that  rage, 

That  deprecating  glance  ?    A  new  shape  leant 

On  a  familiar  shape  —  gloatingly  bent 

O'er  his  discomfiture ;  'mid  wreaths  it  wore, 

Still  one  outflamed  the  rest  —  her  child's  before 

'T  was  Salinguerra's  for  his  child :  scorn,  hate 

Rage,  startled  her  from  Ecelin  —  too  late ! 

Then  was  the  moment !  rival's  foot  had  spurned 

Never  that  brow  to  earth !     Ere  sense  returned  — 

The  act  conceived,  adventured,  and  complete, 

They  bore  away  to  an  obscure  retreat 

Mother  and  child  —  Retrude's  self  not  slain  " 

(Nor  even  here  Taurello  moved)  "  though  pain 

"Was  fled  ;  and  what  assured  them  most 't  was  fled, 

All  pain,  was,  if  they  raised  the  pale  hushed  head 

'T  would  turn  this  way  and  that,  waver  awhile, 

And  only  settle  into  its  old  smile  — 

(Graceful  as  the  disquieted  water-flag 

Steadying  itself,  remarked  they,  in  the  quag 

On  either  side  their  path)  —  when  suffered  look 

Down  on  her  child.     They  marched :  no  sign  once  shook 

The  company's  close  litter  of  crossed  spears 

Till,  as  they  reached  Goito,  a  few  tears 

Slipt  in  the  sunset  from  her  long  black  lash, 

And  she  was  gone.     So  far  the  action  rash  — 

No  crime.     They  laid  Retrude  in  the  font, 

Taurello's  very  gift,  her  child  was  wont 

To  sit  beneath  —  constant  as  eve  he  came 


HOW   THE    DISCOVERY   MOVES    SALINGUERRA,       177 

To  sit  by  its  attendant  girls  the  same 

As  one  of  them.     For  Palma,  she  would  blend 

With  this  magnific  spirit  to  the  end, 

That  ruled  her  first  —  but  scarcely  had  she  dared 

To  disobey  the  Adelaide  who  scared 

Her  into  vowing  never  to  disclose 

A  secret  to  her  husband,  which  so  froze 

His  blood  at  half  recital,  she  contrived 

To  hide  from  him  Taurello's  infant  lived, 

Lest,  by  revealing  that,  himself  should  mar 

Romano's  fortunes.     And,  a  crime  so  far, 

Palma  received  that  action :  she  was  told 

Of  Salinguerra's  nature,  of  his  cold 

Calm  acquiescence  in  his  lot !     But  free 

To  impart  the  secret  to  Romano,  she 

Engaged  to  repossess  Sordello  of 

His  heritage,  and  hers,  and  that  way  doff 

The  mask,  but  after  years,  long  years !  —  while  now, 

Was  not  Romano's  sign-mark  on  that  brow  ?  " 

Across  Taurello's  heart  his  arms  were  locked : 
And  when  he  did  speak  't  was  as  if  he  mocked 
The  minstrel,  "  who  had  not  to  move,"  he  said, 
"  Not  stir  —  should  Fate  defraud  him  of  a  shred 
Of  his  son's  infancy  ?  much  less  of  his  youth ! " 
(Laughingly  all  this)  —  "  which  to  aid,  in  truth, 
Himself,  reserved  on  purpose,  had  not  grown 
Old,  not  too  old  —  't  was  best  they  kept  alone 
Till  now,  and  never  idly  met  till  now  " ; 
—  Then,  in  the  same  breath,  told  Sordello  how 

6*  L 


178     AND    SORDELLO    THE   FINALLY-DETERMINED, 

All  intimations  of  this  eve's  event 

Were  lies,  for  Friedrich  must  advance  to  Trent, 

Thence  to  Verona,  then  to  Rome,  there  stop, 

Tumble  the  Church  down,  institute  a-top 

The  Alps  a  Prefecture  of  Lombardy : 

—  "  That 's  now !  —  no  prophesying  what  may  be 

Anon,  with  a  new  monarch  of  the  clime, 

Native  of  Gesi,  passing  his  youth's  prime 

At  Naples.     Tito  bids  my  choice  decide 

On  whom  ..." 

"  Embrace  him,  madman ! "  Palma  cried, 
Who  through  the  laugh  saw  sweatdrops  burst  apace, 
And  his  lips'  blanching :  he  did  not  embrace 
Bordello,  but  he  laid  Sordello's  hand 
On  his  own  eyes,  mouth,  forehead. 

Understand, 

This  while  Sordello  was  becoming  flushed 
Out  of  his  whiteness :  thoughts  rushed,  fancies  rushed ; 
He  pressed  his  hand  upon  his  head  and  signed 
Both  should  forbear  him.     "  Nay,  the  best 's  behind !  " 
Taurello  laughed,  —  not  quite  with  the  same  laugh : 
"  The  truth  is,  thus  we  scatter,  ay,  like  chaff 
These  Guelfs,  a  despicable  monk  recoils 
From :  nor  expect  a  fickle  Kaiser  spoils 
Our  triumph  !  —  Friedrich  ?     Think  you,  I  intend 
Friedrich  shall  reap  the  fruits  of  blood  I  spend 
And  brain  I  waste  ?     Think  you,  the  people  clap 
Their  hands  at  my  out-hewing  this  wild,  gap 
For  any  Friedrich  to  fill  up  ?     'T  is  mine  — 


THE    DEVIL    PUTTING   FORTH   HIS   POTENCY:     179 

That 's  yours :  I  tell  you,  towards  some  such  design 

Have  I  worked  blindly,  yes,  and  idly,  yes, 

And  for  another,  yes  —  but  worked  no  less 

With  instinct  at  my  heart ;  I  else  had  swerved, 

While  now  —  look  round !     My  cunning  has  preserved 

Samminiato  —  that 's  a  central  place 

Secures  us  Florence,  boy,  —  in  Pisa's  case, 

By  land  as  she  by  sea ;  with  Pisa  ours, 

And  Florence,  and  Pistoia,  one  devours 

The  land  at  leisure !     Gloriously  dispersed  — 

Brescia,  observe,  Milan,  Piacenza  first 

That  flanked  us  (ah,  you  know  not !)  in  the  March ; 

On  these  we  pile,  as  keystone  of  our  arch, 

Romagna  and  Bologna,  whose  first  span 

Covered  the  Trentine  and  the  Valsugan ; 

Sofia's  Egna  by  Bolgiano  's  sure !"'... 

So  he  proceeded :  half  of  all  this,  pure 

Delusion,  doubtless,  nor  the  rest  too  true, 

But  what  was  undone  he  felt  sure  to  do, 

As  ring  by  ring  he  wrung  off,  flung  away 

The  pauldron-rings  to  give  his  sword-arm  play  — 

Need  of  the  sword  now !     That  would  soon  adjust 

Aught  wrong  at  present ;  to  the  sword  intrust 

Sordello's  whiteness,  undersize :  't  was  plain 

He  hardly  rendered  right  to  his  own  brain  — 

Like  a  brave  hound,  men  educate  to  pride 

Himself  on  speed  or  scent  nor  aught  beside, 

As  though  he  could  not,  gift  by  gift,  match  men  ! 

Palma  had  listened  patiently  :  but  when 


180       SINCE    SORDELLO,    WHO    BEGAN    BY    RHYMING, 

'T  was  time  expostulate,  attempt  withdraw 

Taurello  from  his  child,  she,  without  awe 

Took  off  his  iron  arms  from,  one  by  one, 

Sordello's  shrinking  shoulders,  and,  that  done, 

Made  him  avert  his  visage  and  relieve 

Bordello  (you  might  see  his  corselet  heave 

The  while)  who,  loose,  rose  —  tried  to  speak,  then  sank 

They  left  him  in  the  chamber.     All  was  blank. 

And  even  reeling  down  the  narrow  stair 
Taurello  kept  up,  as  though  unaware 
Palma  was  by  to  guide  him,  the  old  device 
—  Something  of  Milan  —  "  how  we  muster  thrice 
The  Torriani's  strength  there  —  all  along 
Our  own  Visconti  cowed  them  "  —  thus  the  song 
Continued  even  while  she  bade  him  stoop, 
Thrid  somehow,  by  some  glimpse  of  arrow-loop, 
The  turnings  to  the  gallery  below, 
Where  he  stopped  short  as  Palma  let  him  go. 
When  he  had  sat  in  silence  long  enough 
Splintering  the  stone  bench,  braving  a  rebuff 
She  stopt  the  truncheon ;  only  to  commence 
One  of  Sordello's  poems,  a  pretence 
For  speaking,  some  poor  rhyme  of  "  Elys'  hair 
And  head  that 's  sharp  and  perfect  like  a  pear, 
So  smooth  and  close  are  laid  the  few  fine  locks 
Stained  like  pale  honey  oozed  from  topmost  rocks 
Sun-blanched  the  livelong  Summer"  —  from  his  worst 
Performance,  the  Goito,  as  his  first : 
And  that  at  end,  conceiving  from  the  brow 


MAY,   EYE!?   FROM   THE   DEPTHS    OF   FAILURE,      181 

And  open  mouth  no  silence  would  serve  now, 
Went  on  to  say  the  whole  world  loved  that  man 
And,  for  that  matter,  thought  his  face,  tho'  wan, 
Eclipsed  the  Count's  — he  sucking  in  each  phrase 
As  if  an  angel  spoke.     The  foolish  praise 
Ended,  he  drew  her  on  his  mailed  knees,  made 
Her  face  a  framework  with  his  hands,  a  shade, 
A  crown,  an  aureole  :  there  must  she  remain 
(Her  little  mouth  compressed  with  smiling  pain 
As  in  his  gloves  she  felt  her  tresses  twitch) 
To  get  the  best  look  at,  in  fittest  niche 
Dispose  his  saint.     That  done,  he  kissed  her  brow, 

—  "  Lauded  her  father  for  his  treason  now," 
He  told  her,  "  only,  how  could  one  suspect 
The  wit  in  him  ?  —  whose  clansman,  recollect, 
Was  ever  Salinguerra  —  she,  the  same, 
Romano  and  his  lady  —  so,  might  claim 

To  know  all,  as  she  should  "  —  and  thus  begun 
Schemes  with  a  vengeance,  schemes  on  schemes, "  not  one 
Fit  to  be  told  that  foolish  boy,"  he  said, 
"  But  only  let  Bordello  Palma  wed, 

—  Then!" 

JT  was  a  dim  long-  narrow  place  at  best : 
Midway  a  sole  grate  showed  the  fiery  West, 
As  shows  its  corpse  the  world's  end  some  split  tomb  — 
A  gloom,  a  rift  of  fire,  another  gloom, 
Faced  Palma  —  but  at  length  Taurello  set 
Her  free  ;  the  grating  held  one  ragged  jet 
Of  fierce  gold  fire :  he  lifted  her  within 


182        YET    SPRING   TO    THE    SUMMIT    OF    SUCCESS, 

The  hollow  underneath  —  how  else  begin 

Fate's  second  marvellous  cycle,  else  renew 

The  ages  than  with  Palma  plain  in  view  ? 

Then  paced  the  passage,  hands  clenched,  head  erect, 

Pursuing  his  discourse  ;  a  grand  unchecked 

Monotony  made  out  from  his  quick  talk 

And  the  recurring  noises  of  his  walk ; 

—  Somewhat  too  much  like  the  o'ercharged  assent 

Of  two  resolved  friends  in  one  danger  blent, 

Who  hearten  each  the  other  against  heart  — 

Boasting  there  'a  naught  to  care  for,  when,  apart 

The  boaster,  all 's  to  care  for.     He,  beside 

Some  shape  not  visible,  in  power  and  pride 

Approached,  out  of  the  dark,  ginglingly  near, 

Nearer,  passed  close  in  the  broad  light,  his  ear 

Crimson,  eyeballs  suffused,  temples  full-fraught, 

Just  a  snatch  of  the  rapid  speech  you  caught, 

And  on  he  strode  into  the  opposite  dark 

Till  presently  the  harsh  heel's  turn,  a  spark 

I'  the  stone,  and  whirl  of  some  loose  embossed  thong 

That  crashed  against  the  angle  aye  so  long 

After  the  last,  punctual  to  an  amount 

Of  mailed  great  paces  you  could  not  but  count,  — 

Prepared  you  for  the  pacing  back  again. 

And  by  the  snatches  you  might  ascertain 

That,  Friedrich's  Prefecture  surmounted,  left 

By  this  alone  in  Italy,  they  cleft 

Asunder,  crushed  together,  at  command 

Of  none,  were  free  to  break  up  Hildebrand, 


IF    HE    CONSENT   TO    OPPRESS    THE    WORLD.        183 

Rebuild,  he  and  Bordello,  Charlemagne  — 

But  garnished,  Strength  with  Knowledge,  "  if  we  deign 

Accept  that  compromise  and  stoop  to  give 

Rome  law,  the  Caesars'  Representative." 

. —  Enough,  that  the  illimitable  flood 

Of  triumphs  after  triumphs,  understood 

In  its  faint  reflux  (you  shall  hear)  sufficed 

Young  Ecelin  for  appanage,  enticed  . 

Him  on  till,  these  long  quiet  in  their  graves, 

He  found  't  was  looked  for  that  a  whole  life's  braves 
Should  somehow  be  made  good  —  so,  weak  and  worn, 

Must  stagger  up  at  Milan,  one  gray  morn 

Of  the  To-Come,  and  fight  his  latest  fight. 

But,  Salinguerra's  prophecy  at  height  — 

He  voluble  with  a  raised  arm  and  stiff, 

A  blaring  voice,  a  blazing  eye,  as  if 

He  had  our  very  Italy  to  keep 

Or  cast  away,  or  gather  in  a  heap 

To  garrison  the  better  —  ay,  his  word 

Was,  "  run  the  cucumber  into  a  gourd, 

Drive  Trent  upon  Apulia  "  —  at  their  pitch 

Who  spied  the  continents  and  islands  which 

Grew  mulberry-leaves  and  sickles,  in  the  map  — 

(Strange  that  three  such  confessions  so  should  hap 

To  Palma,  Dante  spoke  with  in  the  clear 

Amorous  silence  of  the  Swooning-sphere,  — 

Cunizza,  as  he  called  her !     Never  ask 

Of  Palma  more !     She  sat,  knowing  her  task 

Was  done,  the  labor  of  it  —  for,  success, 


184      JUST    THIS    DECIDED,   AND    WE   HAVE   DONE. 

Concerned  not  Palma,  passion's  votaries) 

Triumph  at  height,  and  thus  Sordello  crowned  — 

Above  the  passage  suddenly  a  sound 

Stops  speech,  stops  walk :  back  shrinks  Taurello,  bids 

With  large  involuntary  asking  lids, 

Palma  interpret.     "  'T  is  his  own  foot-stamp  — 

Your  hand !     His  summons !     Nay,  this  idle  damp 

Befits  not ! "     Out  they  two  reeled  dizzily. 

"  Visconti  's  strong  at  Milan,"  resumed  he, 

In  the  old,  somewhat  insignificant  way  — 

(Was  Palma  wont,  years  afterward,  to  say) 

As  though  the  spirit's  flight,  sustained  thus  far, 

Dropped  at  that  very  instant.     Gone  they  are  — 

Palma,  Taurello ;  Eglamor  anon, 

Ecelin,  —  only  Naddo  's  never  gone ! 

—  Labors,  this  moonrise,  what  the  Master  meant 

"  Is  Squarcialupo  speckled  ?  —  purulent, 

I  'd  say,  but  when  was  Providence  put  out  ? 

He  carries  somehow  handily  about 

His  spite  nor  fouls  himself ! "     Goito's  vines 

Stand  like  a  cheat  detected  —  stark  rough  lines, 

The  moon  breaks  through,  a  gray  mean  scale  against 

The  vault  where,  this  eve's  Maiden,  thou  remain'st 

Like  some  fresh  martyr,  eyes  fixed  —  who  can  tell  ? 

As  Heaven,  now  all 's  at  end,  did  not  so  well, 

Spite  of  the  faith  and  victory,  to  leave 

Its  virgin  quite  to  death  in  the  lone  eve. 

While  the  persisting  hermit-bee   ...  ha !  wait 

No  longer  —  these  in  compass,  forward  fate ! 


BOOK    THE    SIXTH. 

AT    THE    CLOSE    OF    A   DAT    OR   A   LIFE, 

THE  thought  of  Eglamor  's  least  like  a  thought, 

And  yet  a  false  one,  was,  "  Man  shrinks  to  naught 

If  matched  with  symbols  of  immensity  — 

Must  quail,  forsooth,  before  a  quiet  sky 

Or  sea,  too  little  for  their  quietude  " : 

And,  truly,  somewhat  in  Bordello's  mood 

Confirmed  its  speciousness,  while  eve  slow  sank 

Down  the  near  terrace  to  the  farther  bank, 

And  only  one  spot  left  out  of  the  night 

Glimmered  upon  the  river  opposite  — 

A  breadth  of  watery  heaven  like  a  bay, 

A  sky-like  space  of  water,  ray  for  ray, 

And  star  for  star,  one  richness  where  they  mixed 

As  this  and  that  wing  of  an  angel,  fixed, 

Tumultuary  splendors  folded  in 

To  die.     Nor  turned  he  till  Ferrara's  din 

(Say,  the  monotonous  speech  from  a  man's  lip 

Who  lets  some  first  and  eager  purpose  slip 

In  a  new  fancy's  birth ;  the  speech  keeps  on 

Though  elsewhere  its  informing  soul  be  gone) 

—  Aroused  him,  —  surely  offered  succor.     Fate 

Paused  with  this  eve  ;  ere  she  precipitate 

Herself,  —  put  off  strange  after-thoughts  awhile, 

That  voice,  those  large  hands,  that  portentous  smile, 


186       PAST    PROCEDURE    IS    FITLIEST    REVIEWED, 

What  help  to  pierce  the  Future  as  the  Past, 
Lay  in  the  plaining  city  ? 

And  at  last 

The  main  discovery  and  prime  concern, 
All  that  just  now  imported  him  to  learn, 
His  truth,  like  yonder  slow  moon  to  complete 
Heaven,  rose  again,  and,  naked  at  his  feet, 
Lighted  his  old  life's  every  shift  and  change, 
Effort  with  counter-effort ;  nor  the  range 
Of  each  looked  wrong  except  wherein  it  checked, 
Some  other  —  which  of  these  could  he  suspect, 
Prying  into  them  by  the  sudden  blaze  ? 
The  real  way  seemed  made  up  of  all  the  ways  — 
Mood  after  mood  of  the  one  mind  in  him  ; 
Tokens  of  the  existence,  bright  or  dim, 
Of  a  transcendent  all-embracing  sense 
Demanding  only  outward  influence, 
A  soul,  in  Palma's  phrase,  above  his  soul, 
Power  to  uplift  his  power,  —  this  moon's  control, 
Over  the  sea-depths,  —  and  their  mass  had  swept 
Onward  from  the  beginning  and  still  kept 
Its  course  :  but  years  and  years  the  sky  above 
Held  none,  and  so,  untasked  of  any  love, 
His  sensitiveness  idled,  now  amort, 
Alive  now,  and  to  sullenness  or  sport 
Given  wholly  up,  disposed  itself  anew 
At  every  passing  instigation,  grew 
And  dwindled  at  caprice,  in  foam-showers  spilt, 
Wedge-like  insisting,  quivered  now  a  gilt 


AS    MORE    APPRECIABLE    IN    ITS    ENTIRETY.        187 

Shield  in  the  sunshine,  now  a  blinding  race 
Of  whitest  ripples  o'er  the  reef —  found  place 
For  much  display  ;  not  gathered  up  and,  hurled 
Right  from  its  heart,  encompassing  the  world. 
So  had  Sordello  been,  by  consequence, 
"Without  a  function :  others  made  pretence 
To  strength  not  half  his  own,  yet  had  some  core 
"Within,  submitted  to  some  moon,  before 
Them  still,  superior  still  whate'er  their  force,  — 
"Were  able  therefore  to  fulfil  a  course, 
Nor  missed  life's  crown,  authentic  attribute. 
To  each  who  lives  must  be  a  certain  fruit 
Of  having  lived  in  his  degree,  —  a  stage,    , 
Earlier  or  later  in  men's  pilgrimage, 
To  stop  at ;  and  to  this  the  spirits  tend 
Who,  still  discovering  beauty  without  end, 
Amass  the  scintillations,  make  one  star 

—  Something  unlike  them,  self-sustained,  afar,  — 
And  meanwhile  nurse  the  dream  of  being  blest 
By  winning  it  to  notice  and  invest 

Their  souls  with  alien  glory,  some  one  day 
"Whene'er  the  nucleus,  gathering  shape  alway, 
Round  to  the  perfect  circle  —  soon  or  late, 
According  as  themselves  are  formed  to  wait ; 
Whether  mere  human  beauty  will  suffice 

—  The  yellow  hair  and  the  luxurious  eyes, 
Or  human  intellect  seem  best,  or  each 
Combine  in  some  ideal  form  past  reach 

On  earth,  or  else  some  shade  of  these,  some  aim, 


188      STRONG,    HE   NEEDED    EXTERNAL    STRENGTH! 

Some  love,  hate  even,  take  their  place,  the  same, 

And  may  be  served  —  all  this  they  do  not  lose, 

Waiting  for  death  to  live,  nor  idly  choose 

What  must  be  Hell  —  a  progress  thus  pursued 

Through  all  existence,  still  above  the  food 

That  '&  offered  them,  still  towering  beyond 

The  widened  range,  in  virtue  of  their  bond 

Of  sovereignty.     Not  that  a  Palma's  Love, 

A  Salinguerra-'s  Hate,  would  equal  prove 

To  swaying  all  Sordello :  wherefore  doubt, 

That  Love  meet  for  such  Strength,  some  moon  without 

Would  match  his  sea  ?  —  or  fear,  Good  manifest, 

Only  the  Best  breaks  faith  ?  —  Ah,  but  the  Best 

Somehow  eludes  us  ever,  still  might  be 

And  is  not !  crave  we  gems  ?  no  penury 

Of  their  material  round  us  !  pliant  earth, 

The  plastic  flame  —  what  balks  the  mage  his  birth 

—  Jacynth  in  balls,  or  lodestone  by  the  block  ? 

Flinders  enrich  the  strand,  and  veins  the  rock  — 

Naught  more !     Ask  creatures  ?     Life 's  i'  the  tempest, 

Thought 

Clothes  the  keen  hill-top,  midday  woods  are  fraught 
With  fervors :  ah,  these  forms  are  well  enough ! 
But  we  had  hoped,  encouraged  by  the  stuff 
Profuse  at  Nature's  pleasure,  men  beyond 
These  men !  and  thus,  perchance,  are  over-fond 
In  arguing,  from  Good  the  Best,  from  force 
Divided  —  force  combined,  an  ocean's  course 
From  this  our  sea  whose  mere  intestine  pants 


EVEN   NOW,   WHERE    CAN   HE   PERCEIVE    SUCH?     189 

Might  seem  at  times  sufficient  to  our  wants. 
—  External  Power  ?     If  none  be  adequate 
And  he  stand  forth  ordained  (a  prouder  fate) 
A  law  to  his  own  sphere  ?  —  need  to  remove 
All  incompleteness,  for  that  law,  that  love  ? 
Nay,  if  all  other  laws  be  such,  though  veiled 
In  mercy  to  each  vision  that  had  failed 
If  unassisted  by  its  want,  —  for  lure, 
Embodied  ?     Stronger  vision  could  endure 
The  unbodied  want :  no  bauble  for  a  truth ! 
The  People  were  himself;  and,  by  the  ruth 
At  their  condition,  was  he  less  impelled 
To  alter  the  discrepancy  beheld, 
Than  if,  from  the  sound  Whole,  a  sickly  Part 
Subtracted  were  transformed,  decked  out  with  art, 
Then  palmed  on  him  as  alien  woe  —  the  Guelf 
To  succor,  proud  that  he  forsook  himself? 
No!  All's  himself;  all  service,  therefore,  rates 
Alike,  nor  serving  one  part,  immolates 
The  rest :  but  all  in  time  !     "  That  lance  of  yours 
Makes  havoc  soon  with  Malek  and  his  Moors, 
That  buckler 's  lined  with  many  a  giant's  beard 
Ere  long,  O  champion,  be  the  lance  upreared, 
The  buckler  wielded  handsomely  as  now ! 
But  view  your  escort,  bear  in  mind  your  vow, 
Count  the  pale  tracts  of  sand  to  pass  ere  that, 
And,  if  you  hope  we  struggle  through  the  flat, 
Put  lance  and  buckler  by !     Next  half-month  lacks 
Mere  sturdy  exercise  of  mace  and  axe 


190      INTERNAL    STRENGTH    MUST    SUFFICE   THEN, 

To  cleave  this  dismal  brake  of  prickly-pear 
Which  bristling  holds  Cydippe  by  the  hair, 
Lames  barefoot  Agathon :  this  felled,  we  '11  try 
The  picturesque  achievements  by  and  by ' — 
Next  life ! " 

Ay,  rally,  mock,  0  People,  urge 
Your  claims !  —  for  thus  he  ventured,  to  the  verge, 
Push  a  vain  mummery  which  perchance  distrust 
Of  his  fast-slipping  resolution  thrust 
Likewise :  accordingly  the  Crowd  —  as  yet 
He  had  inconsciously  contrived  forget 
I*    the   whole,   to   dwell   o'   the    points .  .  .  one    might 

assuage 

The  signal  horrors  easier  than  engage 
With  a  dim  vulgar  vast  unobvious  grief 
Not  to  be  fancied  off,  nor  gained  relief 
In  brilliant  fits,  cured  by  a  happy  quirk, 
But  by  dim  vulgar  vast  unobvious  work 
To  correspond  .  .  .  this  Crowd  then,  forth  they  stood. 
"  And  now  content  thy  stronger  vision,  brood 
On  thy  bare  want ;  uncovered,  turf  by  turf, 
Study  the  corpse-face  thro'  the  taint- worms'  scurf ! " 

Down  sank  the  People's  Then ;  uprose  their  Now. 
These  sad  ones  render  service  to !     And  how 
Piteously  little  must  that  service  prove 
—  Had  surely  proved  in  any  case  !  for,  move 
Each  other  obstacle  away,  let  youth 
Have  been  aware  it  had  surprised  a  truth 
'T  were  service  to  impart  —  can  truth  be  seized, 


HIS    SYMPATHY    WITH   THE    PEOPLE,    TO    WIT;       191 

Settled  forth  with,  and,  of  the  captive  eased, 

Its  captor  find  fresh  prey,  since  this  alit 

So  happily,  no  gesture  luring  it, 

The  earnest  of  a  flock  to  follow  ?     Vain, 

Most  vain !  a  life 's  to  spend  ere  this  he  chain, 

To  the  poor  crowd's  complacence ;  ere  the  crowd 

Pronounce  it  captured,  he  descries  a  cloud 

Its  kin  of  twice  the  plume  —  which  he,  in  turn, 

If  he  shall  live  as  many  lives,  may  learn 

How  to  secure  —  not  else.     Then  Mantua  called 

Back  to  his  mind  how  certain  bards  were  thralled 

—  Buds  blasted,  but  of  breath  more  like  perfume 
Than  Naddo's  staring  nosegay's  carrion  bloom  : 
Some  insane  rose  that  burnt  heart  out  in  sweets, 
A  spendthrift  in  the  Spring,  no  Summer  greets  — • 
Some  Dularete,  drunk  with  truths  and  wine, 
Grown  bestial,  dreaming  how  become  divine. 

"  Yet  to  surmount  this  obstacle,  commence 

With  the  commencement,  merits  crowning !     Hence 

Must  truth  be  casual  truth,  elicited 

In  sparks  so  mean,  at  intervals  dispread 

So  rarely,  that 't  is  like  at  no  one  time 

Of  the  world's  story  has  not  truth,  the  prime 

Of  truth,  the  very  truth  which,  loosed,  had  hurled 

The  world's  course  right,  been  really  in  the  world 

—  Content  the  while  with  some  mean  spark  by  dint 
Of  some  chance-blow,  the  solitary  hint 

Of  buried  fire,  which,  rip  its  breast,  would  stream 
Sky-ward ! " 


192      OF   WHICH,   TRY   NOW   THE    INHERENT   FORCE ! 

Sordello's  miserable  gleam 
Was  looked  for  at  the  moment :  he  would  dash 
This  badge,  and  all  it  brought,  to  earth,  —  abash 
Taurello  thus,  perhaps  persuade  him  wrest 
The  Kaiser  from  his  purpose,  —  would  attest 
His  own  belief,  in  any  case.     Before 
He  dashes  it,  however,  think  once  more ! 
For,  were  that  little,  truly  service  ?     "  Ay  — 
I'  the  end,  no  doubt ;  but  meantime  ?     Plain  you  spy 
Its  ultimate  effect,  but  many  flaws 
Of  vision  blur  each  intervening  cause. 
Were  the  day's  fraction  clear  as  the  life's  sum 
Of  service,  Now  as  filled  as  the  To-come 
With  evidence  of  good  —  nor  too  minute 
A  share  to  vie  with  evil  1     No  dispute, 
'T  were  fitliest  maintain  the  Guelfs  in  rule  : 
That  makes  your  life's  work :  but  you  have  to  school 
Your  day's  work  on  these  natures  circumstanced 
Thus  variously,  which  yet,  as  each  advanced 
Or  might  impede  the  Guelf  rule,  must  be  moved 
Now,  for  the  Then's  sake,  —  hating  what  you  loved, 
Loving  old  hatreds !  nor  if  one  man  bore 
Brand  upon  temples  while  his  fellow  wore 
The  aureole,  would  it  task  you  to  decide  — 
But,  portioned  duly  out,  the  Future  vied 
Never  with  the  unparcelled  Present !     Smite 
Or  spare  so  much  on  warrant  all  so  slight  ? 
The  Present's  complete  sympathies  to  break, 
Aversions  bear  with,  for  a  Future's  sake 


HOW   MUCH    OF   MAN'S    ILL    MAY   BE   REMOVED?     193 

So  feeble  ?     Tito  ruined  through  one  speck, 

The  Legate  saved  by  his  sole  lightish  fleck  ? 

This  were  work,  true  —  but  work  performed  at  cost 

Of  other  work  —  aught  gained  here,  elsewhere  lost. 

For  a  new  segment  spoil  an  orb  half  done  ? 

Rise  with  the  People  one  step,  and  sink  —  one  ? 

Were  it  but  one  step  —  less  than  the  whole  face 

Of  things,  your  novel  duty  bids  erase ! 

Harms  to  abolish !  what  ?  the  prophet  saith, 

The  minstrel  singeth  vainly  then  ?     Old  faith, 

Old  courage,  only  born  because  of  harms, 

Were  not,  from  highest  to  the  lowest,  charms  ? 

Flame  may  persist  but  is  not  glare  as  stanch  ? 

Where  the  salt  marshes  stagnate,  crystals  branch  — 

Blood  dries  to  crimson  —  Evil 's  beautified 

In  every  shape.     Thrust  Beauty  then  aside 

And  banish  Evil !  wherefore  ?    After  all, 

Is  Evil  a  result  less  natural 

Than  Good  ?     For,  overlook  the  seasons'  strife 

With  tree  and  flower,  —  the  hideous  animal  life,  - 

(Of  which  who  seeks  shall  find  a  grinning  taunt 

For  his  solution,  and  endure  the  vaunt 

Of  nature's  angel,  as  a  child  that  knows 

Himself  befooled,  unable  to  propose 

Aught  better  than  the  fooling)  —  and  but  care 

For  Men,  for  the  mere  People  then  and  there,  — 

In  these,  could  you  but  see  that  Good  and  111 

Claimed  you  alike  !     Whence  rose  their  claim  but  still 

From  111,  as  fruit  of  111  —  what  else  could  knit 


194   HOW  MUCH  OF  ILL  OUGHT  TO  BE  REMOVED  ? 

You  theirs  but  Sorrow  ?     Any  free  from  it 

Were  also  free  from  you !     Whose  happiness 

Could  be  distinguished  in  this  morning's  press 

Of  miseries  ?  —  the  fool's  who  passed  a  gibe 

'  On  thee,'  jeered  he,  '  so  wedded  to  thy  tribe, 

Thou  carriest  green  and  yellow  tokens  in 

Thy  very  face  that  thou  art  Ghibellin  ! '  — 

Much  hold  on  you  that  fool  obtained  !     Nay  mount 

Yet  higher  —  and  upon  men's  own  account 

Must  Evil  stay :  for,  what  is  Joy  ?  —  to  heave 

Up  one  obstruction  more,  and  common  leave 

What  was  peculiar  —  by  such  act  destroy 

Itself;  a  partial  death  is  every  joy  ; 

The  sensible  escape,  enfranchisement 

Of  a  sphere's  essence :  once  the  vexed  —  content, 

The  cramped  —  at  large,  the  growing  circle  —  round, 

All 's  to  begin  again  —  some  novel  bound 

To  break,  some  new  enlargement  to  entreat, 

The  sphere  though  larger  is  not  more  complete. 

Now  for  Mankind's  experience :  who  alone 

Might  style  the  unobstructed  world  his  own  ? 

Whom  palled  Goito  with  its  perfect  things  ? 

Bordello's  self!  whereas  for  mankind  springs 

Salvation  by  each  hindrance  interposed  ; 

They  climb,  life's  view  is  not  at  once  disclosed 

To  creatures  caught  up,  on  its  summit  left, 

Heaven  plain  above  them,  yet  of  wings  bereft  — 

But  lower  laid,  as  at  the  mountain's  foot, 

While,  range  on  range,  the  girdling  forests  shoot 


IF  REMOVED,  AT  WHAT  COST  TO  SORDELLO  ?  195 

'Twixt  your  plain  prospect  and  the  throngs  who  scale 

Height  after  height,  and  pierce  mists,  veil  by  veil, 

Heartened  with  each  discovery  ;  in  their  soul, 

The  Whole  they  seek  by  Parts  —  but,  found  that  Whole, 

Could  they  revert,  enjoy  past  gains  ?     The  space 

Of  time  you  judge  so  meagre  to  embrace 

The  Parts,  were  more  than  plenty,  once  attained 

The  Whole,  to  quite  exhaust  it :  naught  were  gained 

But  leave  to  look  —  not  leave  to  do :  Beneath 

Soon  sates  the  looker  —  look  Above,  and  Death 

Tempts  ere  a  tithe  of  Life  be  tasted.     Live 

First,  and  die  soon  enough,  Sordello !     Give 

Body  and  spirit  the  first  right  they  claim, 

And  pasture  thee  on  a  voluptuous  shame 

That  thou,  a  pageant-city's  denizen, 

Art  neither  vilely  lodged  midst  Lombard  men  — 

Canst  force  joy  out  of  sorrow,  seem  to  truck 

Thine  attributes  away  for  sordid  muck, 

Yet  manage  from  that  very  muck  educe 

Gold ;  then  subject,  nor  scruple,  to  thy  cruce 

The  world's  discardings !     Though  real  ingots  pay 

Thy  pains,  the  clods  that  yielded  them  are  clay 

To  all  save  thee,  —  would  clay  remain,  though  quenched 

Thy    purging-fire ;    who  's    robbed    then?      Had    you 

wrenched 

An  ampler  treasure  forth !  —  As  't  is,  they  crave 
A  share  that  ruins  you  and  will  not  save 
Them.     Why  should  sympathy  command  you  quit 
The  course  that  makes  your  joy,  nor  will  remit 


196     MEN    WIN    LITTLE    THEREBY;    HE    LOSES    ALL: 

Their  woe  ?     Would  all  arrive  at  joy  ?     Reverse 

fhe  order  (time  instructs  you)  nor  coerce 

Each  unit  till,  some  predetermined  mode, 

The  total  be  emancipate ;  men's  road 

Is  one,  men's  times  of  travel  many ;  thwart 

No  enterprising  soul's  precocious  start 

Before  the  general  march !  if  slow  or  fast 

All  straggle  up  to  the  same  point  at  last, 

Why  grudge  your  having  gained,  a  month  ago, 

The  brakes  at  balm-shed,  asphodels  in  blow, 

While  they  were  landlocked  ?   Speed  there  Then,  but  how 

This  badge  would  suffer  you  improve  your  Now ! ' " 

His  time  of  action  for,  against,  or  with 
Our  world  (I  labor  to  extract  the  pith 
Of  this  his  problem)  grew,  that  even-tide, 
Gigantic  with  its  power  of  joy,  beside 
The  world's  eternity  of  impotence 
To  profit  though  at  his  whole  joy's  "expense. 
"  Make  nothing  of  my  day  because  so  brief? 
Rather  make  more  —  instead  of  joy,  use  grief 
Before  its  novelty  have  time  subside  ! 
Wait  not  for  the  late  savour  —  leave  untried 
Virtue,  the  creaming  honey-wine,  quick  squeeze 
Vice  like  a  biting  spirit  from  the  lees 
Of  life !  —  together  let  wrath,  hatred,  lust, 
All  tyrannies  in  every  shape,  be  thrust 
Upon  this  Now,  which  time  may  reason  out 
As  mischiefs,  far  from  benefits,  no  doubt  — 
But  long  ere  then  Sordello  will  have  slipt 


FOR   HE    CAN   INFINITELY   ENJOY   HIMSELF,        197 

Away  —  you  teach  him  at  Goito's  crypt, 

There  's  a  blank  issue  to  that  fiery  thrill ! 

Stirring,  the  few  cope  with  the  many,  still : 

So  much  of  sand  as,  quiet,  makes  a  mass 

Unable  to  produce  three  tufts  of  grass, 

Shall,  troubled  by  the  whirlwind,  render  void 

The  whole  calm  glebe's  endeavor :  be  employed ! 

And  e'en  though  somewhat  smart  the  Crowd  for  this, 

Contribute  each  his  pang  to  make  your  bliss, 

JT  is  but  one  pang  —  one  blood-drop  to  the  bowl 

"Which  brimful  tempts  the  sluggish  asp  uncowl 

At  last,  stains  ruddily  the  dull  red  cape, 

And,  kindling  orbs  gray  as  the  unripe  grape 

Before,  avails  forthwith  to  disentrance 

The  portent  —  soon  to  lead  a  mystic  dance 

Among  you !     For,  who  sits  alone  in  Rome  ? 

Have  those  great  hands  indeed  hewn  out  a  home, 

And  set  me  there  to  live  ?     0  life,  life-breath, 

Life-blood,  —  ere  sleep,  come  travail,  life  ere  death ! 

This  life  stream  on  my  soul,  direct,  oblique, 

But  always  streaming !     Hindrances  ?     They  pique  — - 

Helps  ?  such  .  .  .but  why  repeat,  my  soul  o'ertops 

Each  height,  than  every  depth  profoundlier  drops  ? 

Enough  that  I  can  live,  and  would  live !     Wait 

For  some  transcendent  life  reserved  by  Fate 

To  follow  this  ?     O,  never !     Fate,  I  trust 

The  same,  my  soul  to ;  for,  as  who  flings  dust, 

Perchance  —  so  facile  was  the  deed,  she  checked 

The  void  with  these  materials  to  affect 


198     FREED    FROM    A   PROBLEMATIC    OBLIGATION", 

My  soul  diversely  —  these  consigned  anew 

To  naught  by  death,  what  marvel  if  she  threw 

A  second  and  superber  spectacle 

Before  it  ?     What  may  serve  for  sun  —  what  still 

Wander  a  moon  above  me  —  what  else  wind 

About  me  like  the  pleasures  left  behind, 

And  how  shall  some  new  flesh  that  is  not  flesh 

Cling  to  me  ?  what 's  new  laughter —  soothes  the  fresh 

Sleep  like  sleep  ?     Fate's  exhaustless  for  my  sake 

In  brave  resource,  but  whether  bids  she  slake 

My  thirst  at  this  first  rivulet,  or  count 

No  draught  worth  lip  save  from  the  rocky  fount 

Above  i'  the  clouds,  while  here  she  's  provident 

Of  pure  loquacious  pearl,  the  soft  tree-tent 

Guards,  with  its  face  of  reate  and  sedge,  nor  fail 

The  silver  globules  and  gold-sparkling  grail 

At  bottom.     O,  't  were  too  absurd  to  slight 

For  the  hereafter  the  to-day's  delight ! 

Quench  thirst  at  this,  then  seek  next  well-spring  —  wear 

Home-lilies  ere  strange  lotus  in  my  hair ! 

Here  is  the  Crowd,  whom  I  with  freest  heart 

Offer  to  serve,  contented  for  my  part 

To  give  life  up  in  service,  —  only  grant 

That  I  do  serve ;  if  otherwise,  why  want 

Aught  further  of  me  ?     If  men  cannot  choose 

But  set  aside  life,  why  should  I  refuse 

The  gift  ?     I  take  it  —  I,  for  one,  engage 

Never  to  falter  through  my  pilgrimage  — 

Nor  end  it  howling  that  the  stock  or  stone 


AND    ACCEPTING   LIFE    ON   ITS    OWN   TERMS,      199 

Were  enviable,  truly :  I,  for  one, 

Will  praise  the  world,  you  style  mere  anteroom 

To  the  palace  —  be  it  so !  shall  I  assume 

—  My  foot  the  courtly  gait,  my  tongue  the  trope, 
My  mouth  the  smirk,  before  the  doors  fly  ope 

One  moment  ?     What  —  with  guarders  row  on  row, 
Gay  swarms  of  varletry  that  come  and  go, 
Pages  to  dice  with,  waiting-girls  unlace 
The  plackets  of,  pert  claimants  help  displace, 
Heart-heavy  suitors  get  a  rank  for,  —  laugh 
At  yon  sleek  parasite,  break  his  own  staff 
'Cross  Beetle-brows  the  Usher's  shoulder,  —  why, 
Admitted  to  the  presence  by  and  by, 
Should  thought  of  having  lost  these  make  me  grieve 
Among  new  joys  T  reach,  for  joys  I  leave  ? 

—  Cool  citrine-crystals,  fierce  pyropus-stone, 
Are  floor-work  here !  —  But  did  I  let  alone 
That  black-eyed  peasant  in  the  vestibule 

Once  and  forever  ?  —  Floor- work  ?     No  such  fool ! 
Rather,  were  heaven  to  forestall  earth,  I  'd  say 
I,  is  it,  must  be  blessed  ?     Then,  my  own  way 
Bless  me  !  give  firmer  arm  and  fleeter  foot, 
I  '11  thank  you :  but  to  no  mad  wings  transmute 
These  limbs  of  mine  —  our  greensward  was  so  soft ! 
Nor  camp  I  on  the  thunder-cloud  aloft : 
We  feel  the  bliss  distinctlier,  having  thus 
Engines  subservient,  not  mixed  up  with  us. 
Better  move  palpably  through  heaven  —  nor,  freed 
Of  flesh,  forsooth,  from  space  to  space  proceed 


200     WHICH,   YET,    OTHERS    HAVE   RENOUNCED:   HOW? 

'Mid  flying  synods  of  worlds !     No !     In  heaven's  marge 
Show  Titan  still,  recumbent  o'er  his  targe 
Solid  with  stars  —  the  Centaur  at  his  game, 
Made  tremulously  out  in  hoary  flame  ! 

Life  !     Yet  the  very  cup  whose  extreme  dull 
Dregs,  even,  I  would  quaff,  was  dashed,  at  full, 
Aside  so  oft ;  the  death  I  fly,  revealed 
So  oft  a  better  life  this  life  concealed, 
And  which  sage,  champion,  martyr,  through  each  path 
Have  hunted  fearlessly  —  the  horrid  bath, 
The  crippling-irons  and  the  fiery  chair. 

—  'T  was  well  for  them ;  let  me  become  aware 
As  they,  and  I  relinquish  life,  too !     Let 
What  masters  life  disclose  itself !     Forget 
Vain  ordinances,  I  have  one  appeal  — 

I  feel,  am  what  I  feel,  know  what  I  feel 

—  So  much  is  truth  to  me.     What  Is,  then  ?     Since 
One  object,  viewed  diversely,  may  evince 

Beauty  and  ugliness  —  this  way  attract, 

That  way  repel,  why  gloze  upon  the  fact  ? 

Why  must  a  single  of  the  sides  be  right  ? 

What  bids  choose  this  and  leave  the  opposite  ? 

Where  's  abstract  Right  for  me  ?  —  in  youth  endued 

With  Right  still  present,  still  to  be  pursued, 

Thro'  all  the  interchange  of  circles,  rife 

Each  with  its  proper  law  and  mode  of  life, 

Each  to  be  dwelt  at  ease  in :  where,  to  sway 

Absolute  with  the  Kaiser,  or  obey 

Implicit  with  his  serf  of  fluttering  heart, 


BECAUSE    THERE    IS    A   LIFE    BEYOND    LIFE,       201 

Or,  like  a  sudden  thought  of  God's,  to  start 
Up,  Brutus  in  the  presence,  then  go  shout 
That  some  should  pick  the  unstrung  jewels  out  — 
Each,  well!" 

And,  as  in  moments  when  the  Past 
Gave  partially  enfranchisement,  he  cast 
Himself  quite  through  mere  secondary  states 
Of  his  soul's  essence,  little  loves  and  hates, 
Into  the  mid  deep  yearnings  overlaid 
By  these;    as   who    should    pierce    hill,   plain,   grove, 

glade, 

And  on  into  the  very  nucleus  probe 
That  first  determined  there  exist  a  globe. 
As  that  were  easiest,  half  the  globe  dissolved, 
So  seemed  Sordello's  closing-truth  evolved 
By  his  flesh-half's  break  up  —  the  sudden  swell 
Of  his  expanding  soul  showed  111  and  Well, 
Sorrow  and  Joy,  Beauty  and  Ugliness, 
Virtue  and  Vice,  the  Larger  and  the  Less, 
All  qualities,  in  fine,  recorded  here, 
Might  be  but  modes  of  Time  and  this  one  sphere, 
Urgent  on  these,  but  not  of  force  to  bind 
Eternity,  as  Time  —  as  Matter  —  Mind, 
If  Mind,  Eternity,  should  choose  assert 
Their  attributes  within  a  Life  :  thus  girt 
With  circumstance,  next  change  beholds  them  cinct 
Quite  otherwise  —  with  Good  and  111  distinct, 
Joys,  sorrows,  tending  to  a  like  result  — 
Contrived  to  render  easy,  difficult, 


202        AND    WITH   NEW    CONDITIONS    OF    SUCCESS, 

This  or  the  other  course  of ...  what  new  bond 

In  place  of  flesh  may  stop  their  flight  beyond 

Its  new  sphere,  as  that  course  does  harm  or  good 

To  its  arrangements.     Once  this  understood, 

As  suddenly  he  felt  himself  alone, 

Quite  out  of  Time  and  this  world :  all  was  known. 

What  made  the  secret  of  his  past  despair  ? 

—  Most  imminent  when  he  seemed  most  aware 

Of  his  own  self-sufficiency ;  made  mad 

By  craving  to  expand  the  power  he  had, 

And  not  new  power  to  be  expanded  ?  —  just 

This  made  it ;  Soul  on  Matter  being  thrust, 

Joy  comes  when  so  much  Soul  is  wreaked  in  Time 

On  Matter,  —  let  the  Soul's  attempt  sublime 

Matter  beyond  the  scheme  and  so  prevent 

By  more  or  less  that  deed's  accomplishment, 

And  Sorrow  follows :  Sorrow  how  avoid  ? 

Let  the  employer  match  the  thing  employed, 

Fit  to  the  finite  his  infinity, 

And  thus  proceed  forever,  in  degree 

Changed  but  in  kind  the  same,  still  limited 

To  the  appointed  circumstance  and  dead 

To  all  beyond.     A  sphere  is  but  a  sphere  — 

Small,  Great,  are  merely  terms  we  bandy  here  — 

Since  to  the  spirit's  absoluteness  all 

Are  like :  now,  of  the  present  sphere  we  call  • 

Life,  are  conditions  —  take  but  this  among 

Many ;  the  body  was  to  be  so  long 

Youthful,  no  longer  —  but,  since  no  control 


NOR    SUCH   AS,   IN    THIS,    PRODUCE    FAILURE.      203 

Tied  to  that  body's  purposes  his  soul, 

She  chose  to  understand  the  body's  trade 

More  than  the  body's  self — had  fain  conveyed 

Her  boundless,  to  the  body's  bounded  lot : 

Hence,  the  soul  permanent,  the  body  not,  — 

Scarce  the  one  minute  for  enjoying  here, 

The  soul  must  needs  instruct  her  weak  compeer, 

Run  o'er  its  capabilities  and  wring 

A  joy  thence,  the  held  worth  experiencing  — 

Which,  far  from  half  discovered  even,  —  lo, 

The  minute  gone,  the  body's  power  let  go 

That 's  portioned  to  that  joy's  acquirement !     Broke 

Morning  o'er  earth,  he  yearned  for  all  it  woke  — 

From  the  volcano's  vapor-flag,  winds  hoist 

Black  o'er  the  spread  of  sea,  —  down  to  the  moist 

Dale's  silken  barley-spikes  sullied  with  rain, 

Swayed  earthwards,  heavily  to  rise  again  — 

(The  Small,  a  sphere  as  perfect  as  the  Great 

To  the  soul's  absoluteness)  —  meditate 

Too  long  on  such  a  morning's  cluster-chord 

And  the  whole  music  it  was  framed  afford,  — 

The  chord's  might  half  discovered,  what  should  pluck 

One  string,  his  finger,  was  found  palsy-struck. 

And  then  no  marvel  if  the  spirit,  shone 

A  saddest  sight  —  the  body  lost  alone 

Through  her  officious  proffered  help,  deprived 

Of  this  and  that  enjoyment  Fate  contrived, 

Virtue,  Good,  Beauty,  each  allowed  slip  hence,  — 

Vain-gloriously  were  fain,  for  recompense, 


204      BUT,    EVEN    HERE,    IS    FAILURE    INEVITABLE? 

To  stem  the  ruin  even  yet,  protract 

The  body's  term,  supply  the  power  it  lacked 

From  her  infinity,  compel  it  learn 

These  qualities  were  only  Time's  concern, 

And  body  may,  with  spirit  helping,  barred  — 

Advance  the  same,  vanquished  —  obtain  reward, 

Reap  joy  where  sorrow  was  intended  grow, 

Of  Wrong  make  Right,  and  turn  111  Good  below. 

And  the  result  is,  the  poor  body  soon 

Sinks  under  what  was  meant  a  wondrous  boon, 

Leaving  its  bright  accomplice  all  aghast. 

So  much  was  plain  then,  proper  in  the  Past ; 
To  be  complete  for,  satisfy  the  whole 
Series  of  spheres  —  Eternity,  his  soul 
Exceeded,  so  was  incomplete  for,  each 
Single  sphere  —  Time.     But  does  our  knowledge  reach 
No  farther  ?     Is  the  cloud  of  hindrance  broke 
But  by  the  failing  of  the  fleshly  yoke, 
Its  loves  and  hates,  as  now  when  death  lets  soar 
Sordello,  self-sufficient  as  before, 
Though  during  the  mere  space  that  shall  elapse 
'Twixt  his  enthralment  in  new  bonds,  perhaps  ? 
Must  life  be  ever  just  escaped,  which  should 
Have  been  enjoyed  ?  —  nay,  might  have  been  and  would, 
Each  purpose  ordered  right  —  the  soul 's  no  whit 
Beyond  the  body's  purpose  under  it  — 
Like  yonder  breadth  of  watery  heaven,  a  bay, 
And  that  sky-space  of  water,  ray  for  ray 
And  star  for  star,  one  richness  where  they  mixed 


OR    FAILURE    HERE   MAT   BE    SUCCESS    ALSO       205 

As  this  and  that  wing  of  an  angel,  fixed, 

Tumultuary  splendors  folded  in 

To  die  —  would  soul,  proportioned  thus,  begin 

Exciting  discontent,  or  surelier  quell 

The  body  if,  aspiring,  it  rebel  ? 

But  how  so  order  life  ?     Still  brutalize 

The  soul,  the  sad  world's  way,  with  muffled  eyes 

To  all  that  was  before,  all  that  shall  be 

After  this  sphere  —  and  every  quality 

Save  some  sole  and  immutable  Great  and  Good 

And  Beauteous  whither  fate  has  loosed  its  hood 

To  follow  ?     Never  may  some  soul  see  All 

—  The  Great  Before  and  After,  and  the  Small 

Now,  yet  be  saved  by  this  the  simplest  lore, 

And  take  the  single  course  prescribed  before, 

As  the  king-bird  with  ages  on  his  plumes 

Travels  to  die  in  his  ancestral  glooms  ? 

But  where  descry  the  Love  that  shall  select 

That  course  ?     Here  is  a  soul  whom,  to  affect, 

Nature  has  plied  with  all  her  means  —  from  trees 

And  flowers  —  e'en  to  the  Multitude !  —  and  these, 

Decides  he  save  or  no  ?     One  word  to  end ! " 

Ah  my  Sordello,  I  this  once  befriend 
And  speak  for  you.     Of  a  Power  above  you  still 
Which,  utterly  incomprehensible, 
Is  out  of  rivalry,  which  thus  you  can 
'Love,  tho'  unloving  all  conceived  by  man  — 
What  need !     And  of —  none  the  minutest  duct 
To  that  out-nature,  naught  that  would  instruct 


206      WHEN   INDUCED    BY   LOVE?    SORDELLO    KNOWS 

And  so  let  rivalry  begin  to  live  — 

But  of  a  Power  its  representative 

Who,  being  for  authority  the  same, 

Communication  different,  should  claim 

A  course,  the  first  chose  and  this  last  revealed  — 

This  Human  clear,  as  that  Divine  concealed  — 

What  utter  need ! 

What  has  Sordello  found  ? 
Or  can  his  spirit  go  the  mighty  round, 
End  where  poor  Eglamor  begun?  as  says 
Old  fable,  the  two  eagles  went  two  ways 
About  the  world  :  where,  in  the  midst,  they  met, 
Though  on  a  shifting  waste  of  sand,  men  set 
Jove's  temple.     Quick,  what  has  Sordello  found  ? 
For  they  approach  —  approach  —  that  foot's  rebound  .  , 
Palma  ?     No,  Salinguerra  though  in  mail ; 
They  mount,  have  reached  the  threshold,  dash  the  veil 
Aside  —  and  you  divine  who  sat  there  dead, 
Under  his  foot  the  badge  :  still,  Palma  said, 
A  triumph  lingering  in  the  wide  eyes, 
Wider  than  some  spent  swimmer's  if  he  spies 
Help  from  above  in  his  extreme  despair, 
And,  head  far  back  on  shoulder  thrust,  turns  there 
With  short,  quick,  passionate  cry :  as  Palma  prest 
In  one  great  kiss  her  lips  upon  his  breast 
It  beat.     By  this,  the  hermit-bee  has  stopped 
His  day's  toil  at  Goito :  the  new-cropped 
Dead  vine-leaf  answers,  now  't  is  eve,  he  bit, 
Twirled  so,  and  filed  all  day :  the  mansion  's  fit, 


BUT    TOO    LATE  :   AN    INSECT    KNOWS    SOONER.    207 

God  counselled  for.     As  easy  guess  the  word 
That  passed  betwixt  them  and  become  the  third 
To  the  soft  small  unfrighted  bee,  as  tax 
Him  with  one  fault  —  so,  no  remembrance  racks 
Of  the  stone  maidens  and  the  font  of  stone 
He,  creeping  through  the  crevice,  leaves  alone. 
Alas,  my  friend  —  alas  Sordello,  whom 
Anon  they  laid  within  that  old  font-tomb  — 
And,  yet  again,  alas ! 

And  now  is  't  worth 

Our  while  bring  back  to  mind,  much  less  set  forth 
How  Salinguerra  extricates  himself 
Without  Sordello  ?     Ghibellin  and  Guelf 
May  fight  their  fiercest  out  ?     If  Richard  sulked 
In  durance  or  the  Marquis  paid  his  mulct, 
"Who  cares,  Sordello  gone  ?     The  upshot,  sure, 
Was  peace ;  our  chief  made  some  frank  overture 
That  prospered ;  compliment  fell  thick  and  fast 
On  its  disposer,  and  Taurello  passed 
With  foe  and  friend  for  an  outstripping  soul, 
Nine  days  at  least.     Then,  —  fairly  reached  the  goal,  — 
He,  by  one  effort,  blotted  the  great  hope 
Out  of  his  mind,  nor  further  tried  to  cope 
With  Este,  that  mad  evening's  style,  but  sent 
Away  the  Legate  and  the  League,  content 
No  blame  at  least  the  brothers  had  incurred, 
—  Despatched  a  message  to  the  Monk,  he  heard 
Patiently  first  to  last,  scarce  shivered  at, 
Then  curled  his  limbs  up  on  his  wolfskin  mat 


208      ON   HIS    DISAPPEARANCE    FROM   THE    STAGE, 

And  ne'er  spoke  more,  —  informed  the  Ferrarese 

He  but  retained  their  rule  so  long  as  these 

Lingered  in  pupilage,  —  and  last,  no  mode 

Apparent  else  of  keeping  safe  the  road 

From  Germany  direct  to  Lombardy 

For  Friedrich,- — none,  that  is,  to  guarantee 

The  faith  and  promptitude  of  who  should  next 

Obtain  Sofia's  dowry,  —  sore  perplexed  — 

(Sofia  being  youngest  of  the  tribe 

Of  daughters,  Ecelin  was  wont  to  bribe 

The  envious  magnates  with  —  nor,  since  he  sent 

Henry  of  Egna  this  fair  child,  had  Trent 

Once  failed  the  Kaiser's  purposes  —  "  we  lost 

Egna  last  year,  and  who  takes  Egna's  post  — 

Opens  the  Lombard  gate  if  Friedrich  knock  ?  ") 

Himself  espoused  the  Lady  of  the  Kock 

In  pure  necessity,  and  so  destroyed 

His  slender  last  of  chances,  quite  made  void 

Old  prophecy,  and  spite  of  all  the  schemes 

Overt  and  covert,  youth's  deeds,  age's  dreams, 

Was  sucked  into  Romano.     And  so  hushed 

He  up  this  evening's  work  that,  when  't  was  brushed 

Somehow  against  by  a  blind  chronicle 

Which,  chronicling  whatever  woe  befell 

Ferrara,  noted  this  the  obscure  woe 

Of  "  Salinguerra's  sole  son  Giacomo 

Deceased,  fatuous  and  doting,  ere  his  sire," 

The  townsfolk  rubbed  their  eyes,  could  but  admire 

Which  of  Sofia's  five  was  meant. 


THE   NEXT   ASPIRANT    CAN   PRESS   FORWARD,      209 

The  chaps 

Of  earth's  dead  hope  were  tardy  to  collapse, 
Obliterated  not  the  beautiful 
Distinctive  features  at  a  crash  —  but  dull 
And  duller,  next  year,  as  Guelf  chiefs  withdrew 
Each  to  his  stronghold.     Then  (securely  too 
Ecelin  at  Campese  slept — close  by, 
Who  likes  may  see  him  in  Solagna  lie 
With  cushioned  head  and  gloved  hand  to  denote 
The  cavalier  he  was)  —  then  his  heart  smote 
Young  Ecelin  at  last !  —  long  since  adult, 
And,  save  Vicenza's  business,  what  result 
In  blood  and  blaze  ?  ('t  was  hard  to  intercept 
Bordello  till  his  plain  withdrawal.)     Stept, 
Then,  its  new  lord  on  Lombardy.     I'  the  nick 
Of  time  when  Ecelin  and  Alberic 
Closed  with  Taurello,  come  precisely  news      • 
That  in  Verona  half  the  souls  refuse 
Allegiance  to  the  Marquis  and  the  Count  — 
Have  cast  them  from  a  throne  they  bid  him  mount, 
Their  Podesta,  thro'  his  ancestral  worth. 
Ecelin  flew  there,  and  the  town  henceforth 
Was  wholly  his  —  Taurello  sinking  back 
From  temporary  station  to  a  track 
That  suited.     News  received  of  this  acquist, 
Friedrich  did  come  to  Lombardy  :  who  missed 
Taurello  then  ?     Another  year  :  they  took 
Vicenza,  left  the  Marquis  scarce  a  nook 
For  refuge,  and,  when  hundreds  two  or  three 


210     SALINGUERRA'S  PART  LAPSING  TO  ECELIN, 

Of  Guelfs  conspired  to  call  themselves  "  the  Free," 

Opposing  Alberic,  —  vile  Bassanese,  — 

(Without  Sordello !)  —  Ecelin  at  ease 

Slaughtered  them  so  observably,  that  oft 

A  little  Salinguerra  looked  with  soft 

Blue  eyes  up,  asked  his  sire  the  proper  age 

To  get  appointed  his  proud  uncle's  page. 

More  years  passed,  and  that  sire  had  dwindled  down 

To  a  mere  showy  turbulent  soldier,  grown 

Better  through  age,  his  parts  still  in  repute, 

Subtle  —  how  else  ?  —  but  hardly  so  astute 

As  his  contemporaneous  friends  professed ; 

Undoubtedly  a  brawler :  for  the  rest, 

Known  by  each  neighbor,  and  allowed  for,  let 

Keep  his  incorrigible  ways,  nor  fret 

Men  who  had  missed  their  boyhood's  bugbear  —  "  trap 

The  ostrich,  suffer  our  bald  osprey  flap 

A  battered  pinion  "  —  was  the  word.     In  fine, 

One  flap  too  much  and  Venice's  marine 

Was  meddled  with  ;  no  overlooking  that ! 

She  captured  him  in  his  Ferrara,  fat 

And  florid  at  a  banquet,  more  by  fraud 

Than  force,  to  speak  the  truth ;  there  's  slender  laud 

Ascribed  you  for  assisting  eighty  years 

To  pull  his  death  on  such  a  man  —  fate  shears 

The  life-cord  prompt  enough  whose  last  fine  threads 

You  fritter :  so,  presiding  his  board-head, 

The  old  smile,  your  assurance  all  went  well 

With  Friedrich  (as  if  he  were  like  to  tell !) 


WHO,  WITH  HIS  BROTHER,  PLATED  IT  OUT,   211 

In  rushed  (a  plan  contrived  before)  our  friends, 
Made  some  pretence  at  fighting,  some  amends 
For  the  shame  done  his  eighty  years  —  (apart 
The  principle,  none  found  it  in  his  heart 
To  be  much  angry  with  Taurello)  —  gained 
Their  galleys  with  the  prize,  and  what  remained 
But  carry  him  to  Venice  for  a  show  ? 
—  Set  him,  as  't  were,  down  gently  —  free  to  go 
His  gait,  inspect  our  square,  pretend  observe 
The  swallows  soaring  their  eternal  curve 
'Twixt  Theodore  and  Mark,  if  citizens 
Gathered  importunately,  fives  and  tens, 
To  point  their  children  the  Magnifico, 
All  but  a  monarch  once  in  firm-land,  go 
His  gait  among  them  now  —  "  it  took,  indeed, 
Fully  this  Ecelin  to  supersede 
That  man,"  remarked  the  seniors.     Singular  ! 
Sordello's  inability  to  bar 
Rivals  the  stage,  that  evening,  mainly  brought 
About  by  his  strange  disbelief  that  aught 
"Was  ever  to  be  done,  —  this  thrust  the  Twain 
Under  Taurello's  tutelage,  —  whom,  brain 
And  heart  and  hand,  he  forthwith  in  one  rod 
Indissolubly  bound  to  baffle  God 
Who  loves  the  world  —  and  thus  allowed  the  thin 
Gray  wizened  dwarfish  devil  Ecelin, 
,  And  massy-muscled  big-boned  Alberic  • 
(Mere  man,  alas  !)  to  put  his  problem  quick 
To  demonstration  —  prove  wherever 's  will 


212      AND    WENT   HOME   DULY   TO    THEIR   REWARD. 

To  do,  there 's  plenty  to  be  done,  or  ill 

Or  good.     Anointed,  then,  to  rend  and  rip  — 

Kings  of  the  gag  and  flesh-hook,  screw  and  whip, 

They  plagued  the  world  :  a  touch  of  Hildebrand 

(So  far  from  obsolete  !)  made  Lombards  band 

Together,  cross  their  coats  as  for  Christ's  cause, 

And  saving  Milan  win  the  world's  applause. 

Ecelin  perished :  and  I  think  grass  grew 

Never  so  pleasant  as  in  Valley  Ru 

By  San  Zenon  where  Alberic  in  turn 

Saw  his  exasperated  captors  burn 

Seven  children  and  their  mother ;  then,  regaled 

So  far,  tied  on  to  a  wild  horse,  was  trailed 

To  death  through  raunce  and  bramble-bush.     I  take 

God's  part  and  testify  that  mid  the  brake 

Wild  o'er  his  castle  on  the  pleasant  knoll, 

You  hear  its  one  tower  left,  a  belfry,  toll  — 

The  earthquake  spared  it  last  year,  laying  flat 

The  modern  church  beneath,  —  no  harm  in  that ! 

Cherups  the  contumacious  grasshopper, 

Rustles  the  lizard  and  the  cushats  chirre 

Above  the  ravage :  there,  at  deep  of  day 

A  week  since,  heard  I  the  old  Canon  say 

He  saw  with  his  own  eyes  a  barrow  burst 

And  Alberic's  huge  skeleton  unhearsed 

Only  five  years  ago.     He  added,  "  June  's 

The  month  for  carding  off  our  first  cocoons 

The  silkworms  fabricate  "  —  a  double  news, 

Nor  he  nor  I  could  tell  the  worthier.     Choose  ! 


GOOD    WILL  —  ILL    LUCK,    GET    SECOND   PRIZE.      213 

And  Naddo  gone,  all  's  gone  ;  not  Eglamor  ! 
Believe,  I  knew  the  face  I  waited  for, 
A  guest  my  spirit  of  the  golden  courts  ! 
O  strange  to  see  how,  despite  ill-reports, 
Disuse,  some  wear  of  years,  that  face  retained 
Its  joyous  look  of  love  !     Suns  waxed'  and  waned, 
And  still  my  spirit  held  an 


Spiral  on  spiral,  gyres  of  life  and  light 

More  and  more  gorgeous  —  ever  that  face  there 

The  last  admitted  !  crossed,  too,  with  some  care 

As  perfect  triumph  were  not  sure  for  all, 

But,  on  a  few,  enduring  damp  must  fall, 

—  A  transient  struggle,  haply  a  painful  sense 

Of  the  inferior  nature's  clinging  —  whence 

Slight  starting  tears  easily  wiped  away, 

Fine  jealousies  soon  stifled  in  the  play 

Of  irrepressible  admiration  —  not 

Aspiring,  all  considered,  to  their  lot 

"Who  ever,  just  as  they  prepare  ascend 

Spiral  on  spiral,  wish  thee  well,  impend 

Thy  frank  delight  at  their  exclusive  track, 

That  upturned  fervid  face  and  hair  put  back  ! 

Is  there  no  more  to  say  ?     He  of  the  rhymes  — 
Many  a  tale,  of  this  retreat  betimes, 
Was  born  :  Sordello  die  at  once  for  men  ? 
The  Chroniclers  of  Mantua  tired  their  pen 
Telling  how  Sordello  Prince  Visconti  saved 
Mantua,  and  elsewhere  notably  behaved  — 
Who  thus,  by  fortune's  ordering  events, 


214      WHAT    LEAST    ONE    MAY    I    AWARD    SORDELLO? 

Passed  with  posterity,  to  all  intents, 
For  just  the  God  he  never  could  become. 
As  Knight,  Bard,  Gallant,  men  were  never  dumb 
In  praise  of  him :  while  what  he  should  have  been, 
Could  be,  and  was  not  —  the  one  step  too  mean 
For  him  to  take,  —  we  suffer  at  this  day 
Because  of:  Ecelin  had  pushed  away 
Its  chance  ere  Dante  could  arrive  and  take 
That  step  Sordello  spurned,  for  the  world's  sake  : 
He  did  much  —  but  Sordello's  chance  was  gone. 
Thus,  had  Sordello  dared  that  step  alone, 
j  Apollo  had  been  compassed  —  't  was  a  fit 
I  He  wished  should  go  to  him,  not  he  to  it 
—  As  one  content  to  merely  be  supposed 
Singing  or  fighting  elsewhere,  while  he  dozed 
Really  at  home  —  one  who  was  chiefly  glad 
To  have  achieved  the  few  real  deeds  he  had, 
Because  that  way  assured  they  were  not  worth 
Doing,  so  spared  from  doing  them  henceforth  — 
A  tree  that  covets  fruitage  and  yet  tastes 
Never  itself,  itself :  had  he  embraced 
Their  cause  then,  men  had  plucked  Hesperian  fruit 
And,  praising  that,  just  thrown  him  in  to  boot 
All  he  was  anxious  to  appear,  but  scarce 
Solicitous  to  be.     A  sorry  farce 
Such  life  is,  after  all !  cannot  I  say 
He  lived  for  some  one  better  thing  ?  this  way.  — 
Lo,  on  a  heathy  brown  and  nameless  hill 
By  sparkling  Asolo,  in  mist  and  chill, 


THIS  —  THAT    MUST   PERFORCE    CONTENT    HIM,      215 

Morning  just  up,  higher  and  higher  runs 

A  child  barefoot  and  rosy.     She  !  the  sun  's 

On  the  square  castle's  inner-court's  low  wall 

Like  the  chine  of  some  extinct  animal 

Half  turned  to   earth   and  flowers  ;   and   through  the 

haze 

(Save  where  some  slender  patches  of  gray  maize 
Are  to  be  overleaped)  that  boy  has  crost 
The  whole  hill-side  of  dew  and  powder-frost 
Matting  the  balm  and  mountain  camomile. 
Up  and  up  goes  he,  singing  all  the  while 
Some  unintelligible  words  to  beat 
The  lark,  God's  poet,  swooning  at  his  feet, 
So  worsted  is  he  at  "  the  few  fine  locks 
Stained  like  pale  honey  oozed  from  topmost  rocks 
Sunblanched  the  livelong  summer,"  —  all  that  's  left 
Of  the  Goito  lay  !     And  thus  bereft, 

^    effect 


He  sleeps,  the  feverish  poet  —  I  suspect 
Not  utterly  companionless  ;  but,  friends, 
Wake  up  ;  the  ghost  's  gone,  and  the  story  ends 
I  'd  fain  hope,  sweetly  —  seeing,  peri  or  ghoul, 
That  spirits  are  conjectured  fair  or  foul, 
Evil  or  good,  judicious  authors  think, 
According  as  they  vanish  in  a  stink 
Or  in  a  perfume.     Friends,  be  frank  !  ye  snuff 
Civet,  I  warrant.     Really  ?     Like  enough  ! 
Merely  the  savour's  rareness  ;  any  nose 
May  ravage  with  impunity  a  rose  : 


216      AS   NO    PKIZB   AT   ALL,   HAS    CONTENTED    ME. 

Eifle  a  musk-pod  and  'twill  ache  like  yours ! 
I  'd  tell  you  that  same  pungency  insures 
An  after-gust  —  but  that  were  overbold. 
Who  would  has  heard  Sordello's  story  told. 


STRAFFORD 


A    TRAGEDY. 


10 


JSefefcateTr, 

IN  ALL  AFFECTIONATE  ADMIRATION, 
TO 

WILLIAM     C.     MACREADY 


APRIL  23,  1837. 


PERSONS. 

CHARLES  I. 

Earl  of  HOLLAND. 

Lord  SAVILE. 

Sir  HENRY  VANE. 

WENTWORTH,  Viscount  WENTWORTH,  Earl  of  STRAFFORD. 

JOHN  PYM. 

JOHN  HAMPDEN. 

The  younger  VANE. 

DENZIL  HOLLIS. 

BENJAMIN  KUDYARD. 

NATHANIEL  FIENNES. 

Earl  of  LOUD  ON. 

MAXWELL,  Usher  of  the  Black  Rod. 

BALFOUR,  Constable  of  the  Tower. 

A  Puritan. 

Queen  HENRIETTA. 

LUCY  PERCY,  Countess  of  Carlisle. 

Presbyterians,  Scots  Commissioners,  Adherents  of  Strafford, 
Secretaries,  Officers  of  the  Court,  etc.  Two  of  Strafford's 
Children. 


STRAFFORD. 


ACT    I. 

SCENE  I.  A  House  near  Whitehall.  —  HAMPDEN,  HOLLIS,  the 
younger  VANE,  KUDYARD,  FIENNES,  and  many  of  the  Presby 
terian  Party:  LOUDON  and  other  Scots  Commissioners. 

Vane.   I  say,  if  he  be  here  — 

Rud.  (And  he  is  here  !)  — 

Hoi.   For  England's  sake  let  every  man  be  still 
Nor  speak  of  him,  so  much  as  say  his  name, 
Till  Pym  rejoin  us  !     Rudyard !     Henry  Vane  ! 
One  rash  conclusion  may  decide  our  course 
And  with  it  England's  fate  —  think  —  England's  fate  ! 
Hampden,  for  England's  sake  they  should  be  still ! 

Vane.   You  say  so,  Hollis  ?    Well,  I  must  be  still ! 
It  is  indeed  too  bitter  that  one  man, 
Any  one  man's  mere  presence  should  suspend 
England's  combined  endeavor :  little  need 
To  name  him ! 

JKud.  For  you  are  his  brother,  Hollis  ! 

Hamp.    Shame  on  you,  Rudyard !  time  to  tell  him  that 
"When  he  forgets  the  Mother  of  us  all. 


222  STRAFFORD. 

Rud.   Do  I  forget  her  ? 

Hamp.  You  talk  idle  hate 

Against  her  foe  :  is  that  so  strange  a  thing  ? 
Is  hating  Wentworth  all  the  help  she  needs  ? 

A   Puritan.     The    Philistine   strode,   cursing  as   he 

went: 

But  David  —  five  smooth  pebbles  from  the  brook 
Within  his  scrip  .  .  . 

Rud.  Be  you  as  still  as  David ! 

Fien.   Here  's  Rudyard  net  ashamed  to  wag  a  tongue 
Stiff  with  ten  years'  disuse  of  Parliaments  ; 
"Why,  when  the  last  sat,  Wentworth  sat  with  us  ! 

Rud.   Let 's  hope  for  news  of  them  now  he  returns  — 
He  that  was  safe  in  Ireland,  as  we  thought ! 
—  But  I  '11  abide  Pym's  coming. 

Vane.  Now,  by  Heaven 

They  may  be  cool  who  can,  silent  -who  will  — 
Some  have  a  gift  that  way !     Wentworth  is  here, 
Here,  and  the  King 's  safe  closeted  with  him 
Ere  this.     And  when  I  think  on  all  that 's  past 
Since  that  man  left  us,  how  his  single  arm 
Rolled  the  advancing  good  of  England  back 
And  set  the  woful  Past  up  in  its  place,  — 
Exalting  Dagon  where  the  Ark  should  be  — 
How  that  man  has  made  firm  the  fickle  Kins: 

O 

(Hampden,  I  will  speak  out !)  —  in  aught  he  feared 
To  venture  on  before  ;  taught  Tyranny 
Her  dismal  trade,  the  use  of  all  her  tools, 
To  ply  the  scourge  yet  screw  the  gag  so  close 


STRAFFORD.  223 

That  strangled  agony  bleeds  mute  to  death  — 
How  he  turns  Ireland  to  a  private  stage 
For  training  infant  villanies,  new  ways 
Of  wringing  treasure  out  of  tears  and  blood, 
Unheard  oppressions  nourished  in  the  dark 
To  try  how  much  man's  nature  can  endure 

—  If  he  dies  under  it,  what  harm  ?  if  not, 
Why,  one  more  trick  is  added  to  the  rest 
Worth  a  king's  knowing,  and  what  Ireland  bears 
England  may  learn  to  bear  :  how  all  this  while 
That  man  has  set  himself  to  one  dear  task, 
The  bringing  Charles  to  relish  more  and  more 
Power,  power  without  law,  power  and  blood  too  — 

—  Can  I  be  still  ? 

Hamp.  For  that  you  should  be  still. 

Vane.    0  Hampden,   then   and   now !     The  year  he 

left  us, 

The  People  in  full  Parliament  could  wrest 
The  Bill  of  Rights  from  the  reluctant  King  ; 
And  now,  he  '11  find  in  an  obscure  small  room 
A  stealthy  gathering  of  great-hearted  men 
That  take  up  England's  cause :  England  is  here  ! 

Hamp.   And  who  despairs  of  England  ? 

Bud.  That  do  I, 

If  Wentworth  comes  to  rule  her.     I  am  sick 
To  think  her  wretched  masters,  Hamilton, 
The  muckworm  Cottington,  the  maniac  Laud, 
May  yet  be  longed-for  back  again.     I  say, 
I  do  despair. 


224  STRAFFORD. 

Vane.  And,  Rudyard,  I  '11  say  this  — 

Which  all  true  men  say  after  me,  not  loud 
But  solemnly  and  as  you  'd  say  a  prayer ! 
This  King,  who  treads  our  England  under  foot, 
Has  just  so  much  —  it  may  be  fear  or  craft  — 
As  bids  him  pause  at  each  fresh  outrage ;  friends, 
He  needs  some  sterner  hand  to  grasp  his  own, 
Some  voice  to  ask,  "  Why  shrink  ?  —  am  I  not  by ..?  " 
Now,  one  whom  England  loved  for  serving  her, 
Found  in  his  heart  to  say,  "  I  know  where  best 
The  iron  heel  shall  bruise  her,  for  she  leans 
Upon  me  when  you  trample."     Witness,  you ! 
So  Wentworth  heartened  Charles,  and  England  fell. 
But  inasmuch  as  life  is  hard  to  take 
From  England  .  .  . 

Many  Voices.         Go  on,  Vane  !  'T  is  well  said,  Vane ! 

Vane.  —  Who  has  not  so  forgotten  Runnymead !  — 

Voices.   'T  is  well  and  bravely  spoken,  Vane  !    Go  on  ! 

Vane.   There  are  some  little  signs  of  late  she  knows 
The  ground  no  place  for  her  !     She  glances  round, 
Wentworth  has  dropped  the  hand,  is  gone  his  way 
On  other  service :  what  if  she  arise  ? 
No !  the  King  beckons,  and  beside  him  stands 
The  same  bad  man  once  more,  with  the  same  smile 
And  the  same  gesture.     Now  shall  England  crouch, 
Or  catch  at  us  and  rise  ? 

Voices.  The  Renegade ! 

Haman !  Ahithophel ! 

Hamp.-  Gentlemen  of  the  North, 


STRAFFORD.  225 

It  was  not  thus,  the  night  your  claims  were  urged, 
And  we  pronounced  the  League  and  Covenant 
The  cause  of  Scotland,  England's  cause  as  well ! 
Vane  there,  sat  motionless  the  whole  night  through. 

Vane.   Hampden. 

Fien.  Stay,  Vane ! 

Lou.  Be  just  and  patient,  Vane  ! 

Vane.   Mind  how  you  counsel  patience,  Loudon  !  you 
Have  still  a  Parliament,  and  this  your  League 
To  back  it ;  you  are  free  in  Scotland  still : 
While  we  are  brothers,  hope  's  for  England  yet. 
But  know  you  wherefore  Went  worth  comes  ?  to  quench 
This  last  of  hopes  ?  that  he  brings  war  with  him  ? 
Know  you  the  man's  self?  what  he  dares  ? 

Lou.  We  know, 

All  know  —  't  is  nothing  new. 

Vane.  And  what 's  new,  then, 

In  calling  for  his  life  ?     Why,  Pym  himself — 
You  must  have   heard  —  ere  Wentworth  dropped  our 

cause 

He  would  see  Pym  first ;  there  were  many  more 
Strong  on  the  people's  side  and  friends  of  his, 
Eliot  that 's  dead,  Rudyard  and  Hampden  here, 
But  for  these  Wentworth  cared  not ;  only,  Pym 
He  would  see  —  Pym  and  he  were  sworn,  't  is  said, 
To  live  and  die  together ;  so,  they  met 
At  Greenwich.     Wentworth,  you  are  sure,  was  long, 
Specious  enough,  the  Devil's  argument 
Lost  nothing  on  his  lips  ;  he  'd  have  Pym  own 

10*  o 


226  STRAFFORD. 

A  patriot  could  not  play  a  purer  part 

Than  follow  in  his  track  ;  they  two  combined 

Might  put  down  England.     "Well,  Pym  heard  him  out ; 

One  glance  —  you  know  Pym's  eye  —  one  word  was  all : 

"  You  leave  us,  Wentworth  !  while  your  head  is  on, 

I  '11  not  leave  you." 

Hamp.  Has  he  left  Wentworth,  then  ? 

Has  England  lost  him  ?     Will  you  let  him  speak, 
Or  put  your  crude  surmises  in  his  mouth  ? 
Away  with  this  !     Will  you  have  Pym  or  Vane  ? 

Voices.   Wait  Pym's  arrival !     Pym  shall  speak. 

Hamp.  Meanwhile 

Let  Loudon  read  the  Parliament's  report 
From  Edinburgh  :  our  last  hope,  as  Vane  says, 
Is  in  the  stand  it  makes.     Loudon  ! 

Vane.  No,  no  ! 

Silent  I  can  be  :  not  indifferent ! 

Hamp.     Then  each  keep  silence,  praying  God  to  spare 
His  anger,  cast  not  England  quite  away 
In  this  her  visitation  ! 

A  Puritan.  Seven  years  long 

The  Midianite  drove  Israel  into  dens 
And  caves.     Till  God  sent  forth  a  mighty  man, 

PYM  enters. 
Even  Gideon ! 

Pym.  Wentworth  's  come  :  nor  sickness,  care, 

The  ravaged  body  nor  the  ruined  soul, 
More  than  the  winds  and  waves  that  beat  his  ship, 
Could  keep  him  from  the  King.     He  has  not  reached 


STRAFFORD.  227 

Whitehall :  they  've  hurried  up  a  Council  there 
To  lose  no  time  and  find  him  work  enough. 
Where  's  London  ?  your  Scots'  Parliament .  .  . 

Lou.  Holds  firm : 

We  were  about  to  read  reports. 

Pym.  The  King 

Has  just  dissolved  your  Parliament. 

Lou.  and  other  Scots.  Great  God  ! 

An  oath-breaker !     Stand  by  us,  England,  then  ! 

Pym.    The    King 's   too   sanguine ;   doubtless   Went- 

worth  's  here ; 
But  still  some  little  form  might  be  kept  up. 

Hamp.   Now  speak,  Vane  !     Rudyard,  you  had  much 
to  say ! 

Hoi.   The  rumor 's  false,  then  .  .  . 

Pym.  Ay,  the  Court  gives  out 

His  own  concerns  have  brought  him  back :  I  know 
'T  is  the  King  calls  him  :  Wentworth  supersedes 
The  tribe  of  Cottingtons  and  Hamiltons 
Whose  part  is  played ;  there  's  talk  enough,  by  this,  — 
Merciful  talk,  the  King  thinks  :  time  is  now 
To  turn  the  record's  last  and  bloody  leaf 
That,  chronicling  a  nation's  great  despair, 
Tells  they  were  long  rebellious,  and  their  lord 
Indulgent,  till,  all  kind  expedients  tried, 
He  drew  the  sword  on  them  and  reigned  in  peace. 
Laud's  laying  his  religion  on  the  Scots 
Was  the  last  gentle  entry :  the  new  page 
Shall    run,    the    King    thinks,    "  Wentworth    thrust    it 
down 


228  STRAFFORD. 

At  the  sword's  point." 

A  Puritan.  I  '11  do  your  bidding,  Pym, 

England's  and  God's  —  one  blow  { 

Pym.  A  goodly  thing  — 

We  all  say,  friends,  it  is  a  goodly  thing 
To  right  that  England  !     Heaven  grows  dark  above  : 
Let 's  snatch  one  moment  ere  the  thunder  fall, 
To  say  how  well  the  English  spirit  comes  out 
Beneath  it !     All  have  done  their  best,  indeed, 
From  lion  Eliot,  that  grand  Englishman, 
To  the  least  here  :  and  who,  the  least  one  here, 
When  she  is  saved  (for  her  redemption  dawns, 
Dimly,  most  dimly,  but  it  dawns  —  it  dawns) 
Who  'd  give  at  any  price  his  hope  away 
Of  being  named  along  with  the  Great  Men  ? 
We  would  not  —  no,  we  would  not  give  that  up  ! 

Hamp.   And  one  name  shall  be  dearer  than  all  names. 
When  children,  yet  unborn,  are  taught  that  name 
After  their  fathers',  —  taught  what  matchless  man  .  .  . 

Pym.   .  .  .  Saved   England  !      What   if  Wentworth  s 

should  be  still 
That  name  ? 

Rud.  and  others.   We  have  just  said  it,  Pym !     His 

death 

Saves  her !     We  said  it  —  there  's  no  way  beside  ! 
I  '11  do  God's  bidding,  Pym  !     They  struck  down  Joab 
And  purged  the  land. 

Vane.  No  villanous  striking-down  ! 

Rud.   No,  a  calm  vengeance  :  let  the  whole  land  rise 


STRAFFORD.  229 

And  shout  for  it.     No  Feltons  ! 

Pym.  Rudyard,  no ! 

England  rejects  all  Feltons  ;  most  of  all 
Since  Wentworth  .  .  .  Harnpden,  say  the  trust  again 
Of  England  in  her  servants  —  but  I  '11  think 
You  know  me,  all  of  you.     Then,  I  believe, 
Spite  of  the  Past,  "Wentworth  rejoins  you,  friends  ! 

Vane   and  others.     Wentworth  ?     apostate !     Judas  1 

double-dyed 
A  traitor  !     Is  it  Pym,  indeed  .  .  . 

Pym.  .  .  .  Who  says 

Vane  never  knew  that  Wentworth,  loved  that  man, 
Was  used  to  stroll  with  him,  arm  locked  in  arm, 
Along  the  streets  to  see  the  people  pass 
And  read  in  every  island-countenance 
Fresh  argument  for  God  against  the  King,  — 
Never  sat  down,  say,  in  the  very  house 
Where  Eliot's  brow  grew  broad  with  noble  thoughts, 
(You  've  joined  us,  Hampden  —  Hollis,  you  as  well,) 
And  then  left  talking  over  Gracchus'  death  .  .  . 

Vane.   To  frame,  we  know  it  well,  the  choicest  clause 
In  the  Petition  of  Rights  :  he  framed  such  clause 
One  month  before  he  took  at  the  King's  hand 
His  Northern  Presidency,  which  that  Bill 
Denounced. 

Pym.  Too  true  !     Never  more,  never  more 

Walked  we  together !     Most  alone  I  went. 
I  have  had  friends  —  all  here  are  fast  my  friends  — 
But  I  shall  never  quite  forget  that  friend. 


230  STRAFFORD. 

And  yet  it  could  not  but  be  real  in  him  ! 
You,  Vane,  —  you  Rudy ard,  have  no  right  to  trust 
To  Wentworth  :  but  can  no  one  hope  with  me  ? 
Hampden,  will  Wentworth  dare  shed  English  blood 
Like  water  ? 

Hamp.         Ireland  is  Aceldama. 

Pym.   Will  he  turn  Scotland  to  a  hunting-ground 
To  please  the  King,  now  that  he  knows  the  King  ? 
The  People  or  the  King  ?  and  that  King,  Charles ! 

Hamp.    Pym,   all   here   know   you:    you  '11   not   set 

your  heart 

On  any  baseless  dream.     But  say  one  deed     - ..  .  ; 
Of  Wentworth's,  since  he  left  us  ...  [Shouting  without. 

Vane.  There !  he  comes, 

And  they  shout  for  him !     Wentworth  '&  at  Whitehall, 
The  King  embracing  him,  now,  as  we  speak, 
And  he,  to  be  his  match  in  courtesies, 
Taking  the  whole  war's  risk  upon  himself, 
Now,  while  you  tell  us  here  how  changed  he  is ! 
Hear  you  ? 

Pym.       '  And  yet  if 't  is  a  dream,  no  more, 
That   Wentworth    chose   their   side,   and    brought    the 

King 

To  love  it  as  though  Laud  had  loved  it  first, 
And  the  Queen  after ;  —  that  he  led  their  cause 
Calm  to  success,  and  kept  it  spotless  through, 
So  that  our  very  eyes  could  look  upon 
The  travail  of  our  souls  and  close  content 
That  violence,  which  something  mars  even  right 


STRAFFOKD.  231 

Which  sanctions  it,  had  taken  off  no  grace 
From  its  serene  regard.     Only  a  dream  ! 

Hamp.   We  meet  here  to  accomplish  certain  good 
By  obvious  means,  and  keep  tradition  up 
Of  free  assemblages,  else  obsolete, 
In  this  poor  chamber :  nor  without  effect 
Has  friend  met  friend  to  counsel  and  confirm, 
As,  listening  to  the  beats  of  England's  heart, 
We  spoke  its  wants  to  Scotland's  prompt  reply 
By  these  her  delegates.     Remains  alone 
That  word  grow  deed,  as  with  God's  help  it  shall  — 
But  with  the  Devil's  hindrance,  who  doubts  too  ? 
Looked  we  or  no  that  tyranny  should  turn 
Her  engines  of  oppression  to  their  use  ? 
Whereof,  suppose  the  worst  be  Wentworth  here  — 
Shall  we  break  off  the  tactics  which  succeed 
In  drawing  out  our  formidablest  foe, 
Let  bickering  and  disunion  take  their  place  ? 
Or  count  his  presence  as  our  conquest's  proof, 
And  keep  the  old  arms  at  their  steady  play  ? 
Proceed  to  England's  work  !     Fiennes,  read  the  list ! 

Fiennes.    Ship-money  is  refused  or  fiercely  paid 
In  every  county,  save  the  northern  parts 
Where  Wentworth's  influence  .  .  .  (shouting.) 

Vane.  I,  in  England's  name, 

Declare  her  work,  this  way,  at  end !     Till  now, 
Up  to  this  moment,  peaceful  strife  was  best. 
We  English  had  free  leave  to  think ;  till  now, 
We  had  a  shadow  of  a  Parliament 


232  STRAFFORD 

In  Scotland.     But  all  's  changed :  they  change  the  first, 
They  try  brute-force  for  law,  they  first  of  all  ... 

Voices.   Good!     Talk  enough!     The  old  true  hearts 
with  Vane ! 

Vane.   Till  we  crush  Wentworth  for  her,  there  's  no 

act 
Serves  England ! 

Voices.  Vane  for  England  ! 

Pym.  Pym  should  be 

Something  to  England.     I  seek  Wentworth,  friends. 


SCENE  II.  —  Whitehall. 
Lady  CARLISLE  and  WENTWORTH. 

Went.   And  the  King  ? 

Lady  Car.  Wentworth,  lean  on  me !  sit  then,  — 

I  '11  tell  you  all ;  this  horrible  fatigue 
Will  kill  you. 

Went.  No ;  or  —  Lucy,  just  your  arm  ; 

I  '11  not  sit  till  I  Ve  cleared  this  up  with  him : 
After  that,  rest.     The  King  ? 

Lady  Car.  Confides  in  you. 

Went.   Why  ?    or,    why    now  ?  —  They    have    kind 

throats,  the  knaves ! 
Shout  for  me  —  they ! 

Lady  Car.  You  come  so  strangely  soon  : 

Yet  we  took  measures  to  keep  off  the  crowd  — 
Did  they  shout  for  you  ? 


STRAFFORD.  233 

Went.  Wherefore  should  they  not  ? 

Does  the  King  take  such  measures  for  himself  ? 
Beside,  there  's  such  a  dearth  of  malecontents, 
You  say ! 

Lady  Oar.  I  said  but  few  dared  carp  at  you. 

Went.   At  me  ?  at  us,  I  hope  !     The  King  and  I ! 
He 's  surely  not  disposed  to  let  me  bear 
The  fame  away  from  him  of  these  late  deeds 
In  Ireland  ?     I  am  yet  his  instrument 
Be  it  for  well  or  ill  ?     He  trusts  me,  too ! 

Lady  Gar.   The   King,  dear  "Wentworth,  purposes,  I 

said, 
To  grant  you,  in  the  face  of  all  the  Court .  .  . 

Went.   All  the  Court !    Evermore  the  Court  about  us ! 
Savile  and  Holland,  Hamilton  and  Vane 
About  us,  —  then  the  King  will  grant  me  —  what  ? 
That  he  for  once  put  these  aside  and  say  — 
"  Tell  me  your  whole  mind,  Wentworth  ! " 

Lady  Oar.  You  professed 

You  would  be  calm. 

Went.  Lucy,  and  I  am  calm ! 

How  else  shall  I  do  all  I  come  to  do, 
Broken,  as  you  may  see,  body  and  mind, 
How  shall  I  serve  the  King  ?  time  wastes  meanwhile, 
You  have  not  told  me  half.     His  footstep !     No. 
Quick,  then,  before  I  meet  him,  —  I  am  calm  — 
Why  does  the  King  distrust  me  ? 

Lady  Gar.  He  does  not 

Distrust  you. 


234  STRAFFORD. 

Went.  Lucy,  you  can  help  me ;  you 

Have  even  seemed  to  care  for  me :  one  word ! 
Is  it  the  Queen  ? 

Lady  Car.          No,  not  the  Queen :  the  party 
That  poisons  the  Queen's  ear,  Savile  and  Holland. 

Went.   I  know,  I  know :  and  Vane,  too,  he  's  one  too  ? 
Go  on  —  and  he  's  made  Secretary.     Well  ? 
Or  leave  them  out  and  go  straight  to  the  charge  ; 
The  charge ! 

Lady  Gar.   0,  there 's  no  charge,  no  precise  charge  ; 
Only  they  sneer,  make  light  of — one  may  say, 
Nibble  at  what  you  do. 

Went.  I  know !  but  Lucy,  • 

I  reckoned  on  you  from  the  first !  —  Go  on  ! 
—  Was  sure  could  I  once  see  this  gentle  friend 
When  I  arrived,  she  'd  throw  an  hour  away 
To  help  her  .  .  .  what  am  I  ? 

Lady  Car.  You  thought  of  me, 

Dear  Wentworth  ? 

Went.  But  go  on !     The  party  here  ! 

Lady  Car.   They  do  not  think  your  Irish  Government 
Of  that  surpassing  value  .  .  . 

Went.  The  one  thing 

Of  value  !     The  one  service  that  the  crown 
May  count  on !     All  that  keeps  these  very  Vanes 
In  power,  to  vex  me  — not  that  they  do  vex, 
Only  it  might  vex  some  to  hear  that  service 
Decried,  the  sole  support  that 's  left  the  King ! 

Lady  Car.    So  the  Archbishop  says. 


STRAFFORD.  "  235 

Went.  All  ?  well,  perhaps 

The  only  hand  held  up  in  my  defence 
May   be    old    Laud's!      These    Hollands,   then,   these 

Saviles 
Nibble  ?     They  nibble  ?  —  that 's  the  very  word  ! 

Lady  Car.   Your  profit  in  the  Customs,  Bristol  says, 
Exceeds  the  due  proportion :  while  the  tax  .  .  . 

Went.   Enough !  't  is  too  unworthy,  —  I  am  not 
So  patient  as  I  thought !     What 's  Pym  about  ? 

Lady  Car.    Pym  ? 

Went.  Pym  and  the  People. 

Lady  Car.  O,  the  Faction ! 

Extinct  —  of  no  account :  there  '11  never  be 
Another  Parliament. 

Went.  Tell  Savile  that ! 

You  may  know  —  (ay,  you  do  —  the  creatures  here 
Never  forget !)  that  in  my  earliest  life 
I  was  not .  .  .  much  that  I  am  now !     The  King 
May  take  my  word  on  points  concerning  Pym 
Before  Lord  Savile's,  Lucy,  or  if  not, 
I  bid  them  ruin' their  wise  selves,  not  me, 
These  Vanes  and  Hollands !     I  '11  not  be  their  tool 
Who  might  be  Pym's  friend  yet. 

But  there 's  the  King 
Where  is  he  ? 

Lady  Car.   Just  apprised  that  you  arrive. 

Went.   And  why  not  here  to  meet  me  ?     I  was  told 
He  sent  for  me,  nay,  longed  for  me ! 

Lady  Car.  Because, — 


236  STR AFFORD. 

He  is  now  ...  I  think  a  Council 's  sitting  now 
About  this  Scots  affair. 

Went.  A  Council  sits  ? 

They  have  not  taken  a  decided  course 
"Without  me  in  the  matter  ? 

Lady  Car.  I  should  say  .  .  . 

Went.   The  war  ?     They  cannot  have  agreed  to  that  ? 
Not  the  Scots'  war  ?  —  without  consulting  me  — 
Me,  that  am  here  to  show  how  rash  it  is, 
How  easy  to  dispense  with  ?  —  Ah,  you  too 
Against  me  !  well,  —  the  King  may  take  his  time. 
—  Forget  it,  Lucy !  cares  make  peevish :  mine 
Weigh  me  (but 't  is  a  secret)  to  my  grave. 

Lady  Oar.    For  life  or  death  I  am  your  own,  dear 
friend !  \_  Goes  out. 

Went.   Heartless!    but   all   are   heartless   here.      Go 

now, 

Forsake  the  People !  —  I  did  not  forsake 
The  People :  they  shall  know  it  —  when  the  King 
"Will  trust  me !  —  who  trusts  all  beside  at  once, 
While  I  have  not  spoke  Vane  and  Savile  fair, 
And  am  not  trusted :  have  but  saved  the  Throne : 
Have  not  picked  up  the  Queen's  glove  prettily, 
And  am  not  trusted.     But  he  '11  see  me  now. 
Weston  is  dead :  the  Queen  's  half  English  now  — 
More  English :  one  decisive  word  will  brush 
These  insects  from  .  .  .  the  step  I  know  so  well ! 
The  King !     But  now,  to  tell  him  .  .  no  —  to  ask 
What 's  in  me  he  distrusts :  —  or,  best  be<nn 


STRAFFORD.  237 

By  proving  that  this  frightful  Scots  affair 
Is  just  what  I  foretold.     So  much  to  say, 
And  the  flesh  fails,  now  !  and  the  time  is  come, 
And  one  false  step  no  way  to  be  repaired ! 
You  were  avenged,  Pym,  could  you  look  on  me ! 
PYM  enters. 

Went.   I  little  thought  of  you  just  then. 

Pym.  No  ?     I 

Think  always  of  you,  Wentworth. 

Went.  The  old  voice ! 

I  wait  the  King,  sir. 

Pym.  True  —  you  look  so  pale ! 

A  Council  sits  within ;  when  that  breaks  up 
He  '11  see  you. 

Went.  Sir,  I  thank  you. 

Pym.  0,  thank  Laud ! 

You  know  when  Laud  once  gets  on  Church  affairs 
The  case  is  desperate :  he  '11  not  be  long 
To-day :  he  only  means  to  prove,  to-day, 
We  English  all  are  mad  to  have  a  hand 
In  butchering  the  Scots  for  serving  God 
After  their  fathers'  fashion  :  only  that ! 

Went.    Sir,  keep  your  jests  for  those  who  relish  them 
(Does  he  enjoy  their  confidence  ?)     'T  is  kind 
To  tell  me  what  the  Council  does. 

Pym.  You  grudge 

That  I  should  know  it  had  resolved  on  war 
Before  you  came  ?  no  need :  you  shall  have  all 
The  credit,  trust  me. 


238  STRAFFORD. 

Went.  Have  the  Council  dared  — 

They  have  not  dared  .  .  .  that  is  —  I  know  you  not. 
Farewell,  sir :  times  are  changed. 

Pym.  —  Since  we  two  met 

At  Greenwich  ?     Yes :  poor  patriots  though  we  be, 
You  cut  a  figure,  makes  some  slight  return 
For  your  exploits  in  Ireland !     Changed  indeed, 
Could  our  friend  Eliot  look  from  out  his  grave ! 
Ah,  Wentworth,  one  thing  for  acquaintance'  sake, 
Just  to  decide  a  question ;  have  you,  now, 
Felt  your  old  self  since  you  forsook  us  ? 

Went.  Sir! 

Pym.    Spare  me  the  gesture !  you  misapprehend ! 
Think  not  I  mean  the  advantage  is  with  me. 
I  was  about  to  say  that,  for  my  part, 
I  never  quite  held  up  my  head  since  then,  — 
Was  quite  myself  since  then  :  for  first,  you  see, 
I  lost  all  credit  after  that  event 
With  those  who  recollect  how  sure  I  was 
Wentworth  would  outdo  Eliot  on  our  side. 
Forgive  me  :  Savile,  old  Vane,  Holland  here, 
Eschew  plain-speaking :  't  is  a  trick  I  keep. 

Went.   How,  when,  where,  Savile,  Vane  and  Holland 

speak, 

Plainly  or  otherwise,  would  have  my  scorn, 
All  of  my  scorn,  sir  ... 

Pym.  .  .  Did  not  my  poor  thoughts 

Claim  somewhat  ? 

Went.  Keep  your  thoughts  !  believe  the  King 


STRAFFORD.  239 

Mistrusts  me  for  their  prattle,  all  these  Yanes 
And  Saviles !  make  your  mind  up,  o'  God's  love, 
That  I  am  discontented  with  the  King ! 

Pym.   Why,  you  may  be :  I  should  be,  that  I  know, 
Were  I  like  you. 

Went.  Like  me  ? 

Pym.  I  care  not  mu.ch 

For  titles :  our  friend  Eliot  died  no  Lord, 
Hampden  's  no  Lord,  and  Savile  is  a  Lord : 
But  you  care,  since  you  sold  your  soul  for  one. 
I  can't  think,  therefore,  your  soul's  purchaser 
Did  well  to  laugh  you  to  such  utte.r  scorn 
When  you  twice  prayed  so  humbly  for  its  price, 
The  thirty  silver  pieces  .  .  I  should  say, 
The  Earldom  you  expected,  still  expect, 
And  may.     Your  letters  were  the  movingest ! 
Console  yourself:  I  Ve  borne  him  prayers  just  now 
From  Scotland  not  to  be  oppressed  by  Laud, 
Words  moving  in  their  way :  he  '11  pay,  be  sure, 
As  much  attention  as  to  those  you  sent. 

Went.   False,  sir!  —  Who   showed   them   you?    sup 
pose  it  so, 

The  King  did  very  well  .  .  nay,  I  was  glad 
When  it  was  shown  me :  I  refused,  the  first ! 
John  Pym,  you  were  my  friend  —  forbear  me  once ! 

Pym.    0  Wentworth,  ancient  brother  of  my  soul, 
That  all  should  come  to  this ! 

Went.  Leave  me ! 

Pym.  My  friend, 


240  STKAFFORD. 

Why  should  I  leave  you  ? 

Went.  To  tell  Rudyard  this, 

And  Hampden  this ! 

Pym.  Whose  faces  once  were  bright 

At  my  approach  —  now  sad  with  doubt  and  fear, 
Because  I  hope  in  you  —  yes,  Wentworth,  you 
Who  never  mean  to  ruin  England  —  you 
Who  shake  off,  with  God's  help,  an  obscene  dream 
In  this  Ezekiel  chamber,  where  it  crept 
Upon  you  first,  and  wake,  yourself  —  your  true 
And  proper  self,  our  Leader,  England's  Chief, 
And  Hampden's  friend ! 

This  is  the  proudest  day ! 

Come  Wentworth !     Do  not  even  see  the  King ! 
The  rough  old  room  will  seem  itself  again ! 
We  '11  both  go  in  together :  you  Ve  not  seen 
Hampden  so  long:  come:  and  there's  Fiennes:  you'll 

have 
To  know  young  Vane.     This  is  the  proudest  day  ! 

[The  KING  enters.     WENTWORTH  lets  fall  PYM'S  hand. 

Oka.   Arrived,  my  Lord  ?  —  This  gentleman,  we  know, 
Was  your  old  friend. 

The  Scots  shall  be  informed 
What  we  determine  for  their  happiness. 

[PrM  goes  out. 
You  have  made  haste,  my  Lord. 

Went.  Sir,  I  am  come  .  .  . 

Cha.   To  see  an  old  familiar  —  nay,  't  is  well ; 
Aid  us  with  his  experience  :  this  Scots'  League 


STRAFFORD.  241 

• 

And  Covenant  spreads  too  far,  and  we  have  proofs 
That  they  intrigue  with  France :  the  Faction,  too, 
Whereof  your  friend  there  is  the  head  and  front, 
Abets  them,  —  as  he  boasted,  very  like. 

Went.     Sir,  trust   me !   but  for  this   once,  trust  me, 
sir! 

Cha.   What  can  you  mean  ? 

Went.  That  you  should  trust  me,  sir ! 

0  —  not  for  my  sake !  but 't  is  sad,  so  sad 
That  for  distrusting  me,  you  suffer  —  you 
Whom  I  would  die  to  serve  :  sir,  do  you  think 
That  I  would  die  to  serve  you  ? 

Cha.  But  rise,  Wentworth  ! 

Went.   What     shall     convince     you?       What     d'oes 

Savile  do 

To  prove  him  .  .  .  Ah,  one  can't  tear  out  one's  heart 
And  show  it,  how  sincere  a  thing  it  is ! 

Cha.   Have  I  not  trusted  you  ? 

Went.  Say  aught  but  that ! 

There  is  my  comfort,  mark  you :  all  will  be 
So  different  when  you  trust  me  —  as  you  shall ! 
It  has  not  been  your  fault,  —  I  was  away, 
Mistook,  maligned,  how  was  the  King  to  know  ? 

1  am  here,  now  —  he  means  to  trust  me,  now  — 
All  will  go  on  so  well ! 

Cha.  Be  sure  I  do  — 

I  've  heard  that  I  should  trust  you  :  as  you  came, 
Your  friend,  the  Countess,  told  me  ... 

Went.  No,  —  hear  nothing  — 

11  p 


242  STRA.FFORD. 

Be  told  nothing  about  me  !  you  're  not  told 

Your  right-hand  serves  you,  or  your  children  love  you ! 

Cha.   You  love  me,  Wentworth :  rise ! 

Went.  I  can  speak  now. 

I  have  no  right  to  hide  the  truth.     'T  is  I 
Can  save  you ;  only  I.     Sir,  what  must  be  ? 

Cha.    Since  Laud 's  assured  (the  minutes  are  within) 
—  Loath  as  I  am  to  spill  my  subjects'  blood  .  .  . 

Went.   That  is,  he  '11  have  a  war :  what 's  done  is  done ! 

Cha.   They  have  intrigued  with  France ;  that 's  clear 
to  Laud. 

Went.   Has  Laud  suggested  any  way  to  meet 
The  war's  expense  ? 

Cha.  He  'd  not  decide  so  far 

Until  you  joined  us. 

Went.  Most  considerate ! 

He  's  certain  they  intrigue  with  France,  these  Scots  ? 
The  People  would  be  with  us. 

Cha.  Pym  should  know. 

Went.   The  People  for  us  —  were  the  People  for  us ! 
Sir,  a  great  thought  comes  to  reward  your  trust : 
Summon  a  Parliament !  in  Ireland  first, 
Then,  here. 

Cha.  In  truth? 

Went.  That  saves  us  !  that  puts  off 

The  war,  gives  time  to  right  their  grievances  — • 
To  talk  with  Pym.     I  know  the  Faction,  as 
Laud  styles  it,  tutors  Scotland :  all  their  plans 
Suppose  no  Parliament :  in  calling  one 


STRAFFORD.  243 

You  take  them  by  surprise.     Produce  the  proofs 
Of  Scotland's  treason ;  then  bid  England  help : 
Even  Pym  will  not  refuse. 

Cha.  You  would  begin 

With  Ireland  ? 

Went.  Take  no  care  for  that :  that 's  sure 

To  prosper. 

Cha.  You  shall  rule  me.     You  were  best 

Return  at  once :  but  take  this  ere  you  go ! 
Now,  do  I  trust  you  ?     You  're  an  Earl :  my  Friend 
Of  Friends :  yes,  while  .  .  .  You  hear  me  not ! 

Went.    Say  it  all  o'er  again  —  but  once  again  : 
The  first  was  for  the  music  —  once  again  ! 

Cha.    Straflford,  my  friend,  there  may  have  been  re 
ports, 

Vain  rumors.     Henceforth  touching  Straflford  is 
To  touch  the  apple  of  my  sight :  why  gaze 
So  earnestly? 

Went.  I  am  grown  young  again, 

And  foolish.     What  was  it  we  spoke  of? 

Cha.  Ireland, 

The  Parliament,  — 

Went.  I  may  go  when  I  will  ? 

—  Now  ? 

Cha.  Are  you  tired  so  soon  of  us  ? 

Went.  My  King ! 

But  you  will  not  so  utterly  abhor 
A  Parliament  ?     I  'd  serve  you  any  way. 

Cha.   You  said  just  now  this  was  the  only  way. 


244  STRAFFORD. 

Went.    Sir,  I  will  serve  you ! 

Cha.  Strafford,  spare  yourself  — 

You  are  so  sick,  they  tell  me. 

Went.  'T  is  my  soul 

That 's  well  and  prospers,  now ! 

This  Parliament  — 

We  '11  summon  it,  the  English  one  —  I  '11  care 
For  everything.     You  shall  not  need  them  much. 

Cha.   If  they  prove  restive  .  .  . 

Went.  I  shall  be  with  you. 

Cha.   Ere  they  assemble  ? 

Went.  I  will  come,  or  else 

Deposit  this  infirm  humanity 

I'  the  dust.     My  whole  heart  stays  with  you,  my  King ! 
[As  WENTWORTH  goes  out,  the  QUEEN  enters. 

Cha.   That  man  must  love-  me ! 

Queen.  Is  it  over  then  ? 

Why,  he  looks  yellower  than  ever !  well, 
At  least  we  shall  not  hear  eternally 
Of  service  —  services :  he  's  paid  at  least. 

Cha.   Not  done  with :  he  engages  to  surpass 
All  yet  performed  in  Ireland. 

Queen.  I  had  thought 

Nothing  beyond  was  ever  to  be  done. 
The  war,  Charles  —  will  he  raise  supplies  enough  ? 

Cha.   We  've  hit  on  an  expedient ;  he  ...  that  is, 
I  have  advised  ...  we  have  decided  on 
The  calling  —  in  Ireland  —  of  a  Parliament. 

Queen.   0  truly !  You  agree  to  that  ?  Is  that 


STRAFFORD.  245 

The  first  fruit  of  his  counsel  ?  But  I  guessed 
As  much. 

Cha.         This  is  too  idle,  Henriette  ! 
I  should  know  best.     He  will  strain  every  nerve, 
And  once  a  precedent  established  .  .  . 

Queen.  Notice 

How  sure  he  is  of  a  long  term  of  favors ! 
He  '11  see  the  next,  and  the  next  after  that ; 
No  end  to  Parliaments  ! 

Cha.  Well,  it  is  done. 

He  talks  it  smoothly,  doubtless.     If,  indeed, 
The  Commons  here  .  .  . 

Queen.  Here  !  you  will  summon  them 

Here  ?     Would  I  were  in  France  again  to  see 
A  King! 

Cha.     But  Henriette  .  .  . 

Queen.  O,  the  Scots  see  clear  ? 

Why  should  they  bear  your  rule  ? 

Cha.  But  listen,  Sweet ! 

Queen.   Let  Wentworth  listen  —  you  confide  in  him ! 

Cha.   I  do  not,  Love  —  I  do  not  so  confide  ? 
The  Parliament  shall  never  trouble  us 
.  .  Nay,  hear  me !     I  have  schemes,  such  schemes :  we  '11 

buy 

The  leaders  off:  without  that,  Wentworth's  counsel 
Had  ne'er  prevailed  on  me.     Perhaps  I  call  it 
To  have  excuse  for  breaking  it  forever, 
And  whose  will  then  the  blame  be  ?     See  you  not  ? 
Come,  Dearest !  —  look  !  the  little  fairy,  now, 
That  cannot  reach  my  shoulder !     Dearest,  come  ! 


246  STRAFFORD. 

ACT    II. 

SCENE  I.  —  (As  in  Act  I.  Scene  I.) 
The  same  Party  enters. 

Rud.  Twelve  subsidies ! 

Vane.  0  Rudyard,  do  not  laugh 

At  least! 

Rud.         True  :  Strafford  called  the  Parliament  — 
'Tis  he  should  laugh ! 

A  Puritan.  Out  of  the  serpent's  root 

Comes  forth  a  cockatrice. 

Fien.  —  A  stinging  one, 

If  that 's  the  Parliament :  twelve  subsidies  ! 
A  stinging  one !  but,  brother,  where  's  your  word 
For  Strafford's  other  nest-egg,  the  Scots'  war  ? 

The  Puritan.   His  fruit  shall  be  a  fiery  flying  serpent. 

Fien.    Shall   be  ?     It   chips   the   shell,   man ;     peeps 

abroad. 
Twelve  subsidies !  —  Why,  how  now,  Vane  ? 

Rud.  Peace,  Fiennes  ! 

Fien.  Ah  ?  —  But  he  was  not  more  a  dupe  than  I, 
Or  you,  or  any  here,  the  day  that  Pym 
Returned  with  the  good  news.     Look  up,  friend  Vane ! 
We  all  believed  that  Strafford  meant  us  well 
In  summoning  the  Parliament. 

HAMPDEN   enters. 
Vane.  Now,  Hampden, 


STRAFFORD.  247 

Clear  me !  I  would  have  leave  to  sleep  again  ; 

I  'd  look  the  People  in  the  face  again : 

Clear  me  from  having,  from  the  first,  hoped,  dreamed 

Better  of  Strafford ! 

Hamp.  You  may  grow  one  day 

A  steadfast  light  to  England,  Henry  Vane ! 

Rud.  Meantime,  by  flashes  I  make  shift  to  see 
Strafford  revived  our  Parliaments  ;  before, 
War  was  but  talked  of ;  there  's  an  army,  now : 
Still,  we  've  a  Parliament !    Poor  Ireland  bears 
Another  wrench  (she  dies  the  hardest  death !) 
Why,  speak  of  it  in  Parliament !  and,  lo, 
JT  is  spoken  !  so  console  yourselves. 

Fien.  The  jest ! 

We  clamored,  I  suppose,  thus  long,  to  win 
The  'privilege  of  laying  on  our  backs 
A  sorer  burden  than  the  King  dares  lay  ! 

Rud.  Mark  now  :   we  meet  at  length,  complaints  pour 

in 

From  every  county,  all  the  land  cries  out 
On  loans  and  levies,  curses  ship-money, 
Calls  vengeance  on  the  Star-chamber  ;  we  lend 
An  ear.     "  Ay,  lend  them  all  the  ears  you  have  ! " 
Puts  in  the  King ;  "  my  subjects,  as  you  find, 
Are  fretful,  and  conceive  great  things  of  you. 
Just  listen  to  them,  friends  ;  you  '11  sanction  me 
The  measures  they  most  wince  at,  make  them  yours, 
Instead  of  mine,  I  know  :  and,  to  begin, 
They  say  my  levies  pinch  them,  —  raise  me  straight 


248  STRAFFORD. 

Twelve  subsidies ! " 

Fien.  All  England  cannot  furnish 

Twelve  subsidies ! 

Hoi.  But  Strafford,  just  returned 

From  Ireland  —  what  has  he  to  do  with  that  ? 
How  could  he  speak  his  mind  ?    He  left  before 
The  Parliament  assembled.     Pym,  who  knows 
Strafford  .  .  . 

Rud.  Would  I  were  sure  we  know  ourselves ! 

"What  is  for  good,  what,  bad  —  who  friend,  who  foe  ! 

Hoi.  Do  you  count  Parliaments  no  gain  ? 

Hud.  A  gain  ? 

While  the  King's  creatures  overbalance  us  ? 
—  There 's  going  on,  beside,  among  ourselves 
A  quiet,  slow,  but  most  effectual  course 
Of  buying  over,  sapping,  leavening 
The  lump  till  all  is  leaven.     Glanville  's  gone. 
I  '11  put  a  case  ;  had  not  the  Court  declared 
That  no  sum  short  of  just  twelve  subsidies 
Will  be  accepted  by  the  King  —  our  House, 
I  say,  would  have  consented  to  that  offer 
To  let  us  buy  off  ship-money  ! 

Hoi.  Most  like, 

If,  say,  six  subsidies  will  buy  it  off, 
The  House  .  .  . 

Rud.  Will  grant  them  !  Hampden,  do  you  hear  ? 

Congratulate  with  me  !  the  King 's  the  king, 
And  gains  his  point  at  last  —  our  own  assent 
To  that  detested  tax  !  all 's  over,  then ! 


STRAFFORD.  249 

There 's  no  more  taking  refuge  in  this  room, 
Protesting,  "  Let  the  King  do  what  he  will, 
We,  England,  are  no  party  to  our  shame : 
Our  day  will  come ! "     Congratulate  with  me ! 
PYM  enters. 

Vane.  Pym,  Strafford  called  this  Parliament,  you  say, 
But  we  '11  not  have  our  Parliaments  like  those 
In  Ireland,  Pym ! 

Rud.  Let  him  stand  forth,  your  friend ! 

One  doubtful  act  hides  far  too  many  sins  ; 
It  can  be  stretched  no  more,  and,  to  my  mind, 
Begins  to  drop  from  those  it  covered. 

Other  Voices.  Good  ! 

Let  him  avow  himself !    No  fitter  time  ! 
We  wait  thus  long  for  you.  • 

Rud.  Perhaps,  too  long  ! 

Since  nothing  but  the  madness  of  the  Court, 
In  thus  unmasking  its  designs  at  once, 
Has  saved  us  from  betraying  England.     Stay  — 
This  Parliament  is  Strafford's  :  let  us  vote 
Our  list  of  grievances  too  black  by  far 
To  suffer  talk  of  subsidies  :  or  best, 
That  ship-money  's  disposed  of  long  ago 
By  England  :  any  vote  that 's  broad  enough : 
And  then  let  Strafford,  for  the  love  of  it, 
Support  his  Parliament ! 

Vane.  And  vote  as  well 

No  war 's  to  be  with  Scotland  !    Hear  you,  Pym  ? 
We  '11  vote,  no  war  !    No  part  nor  lot  in  it 
ll* 


250  STRAFFOKD. 

For  England ! 

Many  Voices.    Vote,  no  war !     Stop  the  new  levies  ! 
No  Bishop's  war !     At  once  !     When  next  we  meet ! 

Pym.   Much   more   when   next  we   meet!     Friends, 

which  of  you 

Since  first  the  course  of  StrafFord  was  in  doubt, 
Has  fallen  the  most  away  in  soul  from  me  ? 

Vane.   I  sat  apart,  even  now,  under  God's  eye, 
Pondering  the  words  that  should  denounce  you,  Pym, 
In  presence  of  us  all,  as  one  at  league 
With  England's  enemy. 

Pym.  You  are  a  good 

And  gallant  spirit,  Henry.     Take  my  hand 
And  say  you  pardon  me  for  all  the  pain 
Till  now !     StrafFord  is  wholly  ours. 

Many  Voices.  Sure  ?  sure  ? 

Pym.   Most    sure:     for    Charles    dissolves   the   Par 
liament 
While  I  speak  here. 

—  And  I  must  speak,  friends,  now ! 
Strafford  is  ours.     The  King  detects  the  change, 
Casts  Strafford  off  forever,  and  resumes 
His  ancient  path :  no  Parliament  for  us, 
No  Strafford  for  the  King! 

Come,  all  of  you, 

To  bid  the  King  farewell,  predict  success 
To  his  Scots'  expedition,  and  receive 
Strafford,  our  comrade  now.     The  next  will  be 
Indeed  a  Parliament ! 


STRAFFORD.  251 

Vane.  Forgive  me,  Pym  ! 

Voices.   This  looks   like  truth:    Strafford   can   have, 

indeed, 
No  choice. 

Pym.         Friends,  follow  me !     He 's  with  the  King. 
Come,  Hampden,  and  come,  Rudyard,  and  come,  Vane ! 
This  is  no  sullen  day  for  England,  sirs ! 
Straiford  shall  tell  you ! 

Voices.  To  Whitehall  then !     Come ! 


SCENE  II.  —  Whitehall 
CHARLES  and  STKAFFORD. 

Cha.    Strafford! 

Straf.  Is  it  a  dream  ?  my  papers,  here  — 

Thus,  as  I  left  them,  all  the  plans  you  found 
So  happy  —  (look  !  the  track  you  pressed  my  hand 
For  pointing  out)  —  and  in  this  very  room, 
Over  these  very  plans,  you  tell  me,  sir, 
With  the  same  face,  too,  —  tell  me  just  one  thing 
That  ruins  them !     How 's  this  ?     What  may  this  mean  ? 
Sir,  who  has  done  this  ? 

Cha.  Strafford,  who  but  I  ? 

You  bade  me  put  the  rest  away  :  indeed 
You  are  alone. 

Straf.  Alone,  and  like  to  be  ! 

No  fear,  when  some  unworthy  scheme  's  grown  ripe, 


252  STRAFFORD. 

Of  those,  who  hatched  it,  leaving  me  to  loose 
The  mischief  on  the  world !     Laud  hatches  war, 
Falls  to  his  prayers,  and  leaves  the  rest  to  me, 
And  I  'm  alone,  % 

Cha.  At  least,  you  knew  as  much 

When  first  you  undertook  the  war. 

Straf.  My  liege, 

Was  this  the  way  ?     I  said,  since  Laud  would  lap 
A  little  blood,  't  were  best  to  hurry  over 
The  loathsome  business,  not  to  be  whole  months 
At  slaughter  —  one  blow,  only  one,  then,  peace, 
Save  for  the  dreams.     I  said,  to  please  you  both 
I  'd  lead  an  Irish  army  to  the  West, 
While  in  the  South  an  English  .  .  .  but  you  look 
As  though  you  had  not  told  me  fifty  times 
'T  was  a  brave  plan !     My  army  is  all  raised, 
I  am  prepared  to  join  it ... 

Cha.  Hear  me,  Strafford ! 

Straf.   .  .  .  When,   for   some   little   thing,   my   whole 

design 

Is  set  aside  —  (where  is  the  wretched  paper  ?) 
I  am  to  lead  —  (ay,  here  it  is)  —  to  lead 
The  English  army  :  why  ?     Northumberland 
That  I  appointed,  chooses  to  be  sick  — 
Is  frightened :  and,  meanwhile,  who  answers  for 
The  Irish  Parliament  ?  or  army,  either  ? 
Is  this  my  plan  ? 

Cha.  So  disrespectful,  sir  ? 

Straf.   My  liege,  do  not  believe  it !     I  am  yours, 


STRAFFORD.  253 

Yours  ever :  't  is  too  late  to  think  about : 
To  the  death,  yours.     Elsewhere,  this  untoward  step 
Shall  pass  for  mine  ;  the  world  shall  think  it  mine. 
But,  here !  But,  here  !  I  am  so  seldom  here, 
Seldom  with  you,  my  King !     I,  soon  to  rush 
Alone  upon  a  giant  in  the  dark ! 

Gha.   My  Strafford  ! 

Straf.    [examines  papers  awhile."]     "  Seize  the  passes 

oftheTyne"! 

But,  sir,  you  see  —  see  all  I  say  is  true  ? 
My  plan  was  sure  to  prosper,  so,  no  cause 
To  ask  the  Parliament  for  help ;  whereas 
We  need  them  frightfully. 

Gha.  Need  the  Parliament  ? 

Straf.   Now,  for  God's  sake,  sir,  not  one  error  more ! 
"We  can  afford  no  error ;  we  draw,  now, 
Upon  our  last  resource :  the  Parliament 
Must  help  us ! 

Gha.  I  Ve  undone  you,  Strafford ! 

Straf.  Nay  — 

Nay  —  why  despond,  sir  ?  't  is  not  come  to  that ! 
I  have  not  hurt  you  ?     Sir,  what  have  I  said 
To  hurt  you  ?     I  unsay  it !  Don't  despond ! 
Sir,  do  you  turn  from  me  ? 

Gha.  My  friend  of  friends  ! 

Straf.   We  '11  make  a  shift !  Leave  me  the  Parliament ! 
Help  they  us  ne'er  so  little  and  I  '11  make 
Sufficient  out  of  it.     We  '11  speak  them  fair. 
They  're  sitting,  that 's  one  great  thing  ;  that  half  gives 


254  STRAFFORD. 

Their  sanction  to  us  ;  that 's  much  :  don't  despond ! 
Why,  let  them  keep  their  money,  at  the  worst ! 
The  reputation  of  the  People's  help 
Is  all  we  want :  we  11  make  shift  yet ! 

Cha.  Good  Strafford  ! 

Straf.  But  meantime,  let  the  sum  be  ne'er  so  small 
They  offer,  we  '11  accept  it :  any  sum  — 
For  the  look  of  it :  the  least  grant  tells  the  Scots 
The  Parliament  is  ours  —  their  stanch  ally 
Turned  ours :  that  told,  there 's  half  the  blow  to  strike ! 
What  will  the  grant  be  ?    What  does  Glanville  think  ? 

Cha.  Alas ! 

Straf.  My  liege  ? 

Cha.  Strafford! 

Straf.  But  answer  me ! 

Have  they  ...  0  surely  not  refused  us  half? 
Half  the  twelve  subsidies  ?  We  never  looked 
For  all  of  them  !  How  many  do  they  give 

Cha.  You  have  not  heard  .  .  . 

Straf.  (What  has  he  done  ?)  —  Heard  what  ? 

But  speak  at  once,  sir,  this  grows  terrible ! 

[The  King  continuing  silent. 
You  have  dissolved  them !  —  I  '11  not  leave  this  man. 

Cha.  'T  was  old  Vane's  ill-judged  vehemence. 

Straf.  Old  Vane  ? 

Cha.  He  told  them,  just  about  to  vote  the  half, 
That  nothing  short  of  all  twelve  subsidies 
Would  serve  our  turn,  or  be  accepted. 

Straf.  Vane ! 


STRAFFORD.  255 

Vane  !    "Who,  sir,  promised  me  that  very  Vane  .  .  . 
O  God,  to  have  it  gone,  quite  gone  from  me, 
The  one  last  hope  —  I  that  despair,  my  hope  — 
That  I  should  reach  his  heart  one  day,  and  cure 
All  bitterness  one  day,  be  proud  again 
And  young  again,  care  for  the  sunshine  too, 
And  never  think  of  Eliot  any  more,  — 
God,  and  to  toil  for  this,  go  far  for  this, 
Get  nearer,  and  still  nearer,  reach  this  heart 
And  find  Vane  there ! 

[Suddenly  taking  up  a  paper,  and  continuing  with 


Northumberland  is  sick : 
Well  then,  I  take  the  army  :  Wilmot  leads 
The  Horse,  and  he  with  Conway  must  secure 
The  passes  of  the  Tyne  :  Ormond  supplies 
My  place  in  Ireland.     Here,  we  '11  try  the  City : 
If  they  refuse  a  loan  —  debase  the  coin 
And  seize  the  bullion !  we  've  no  other  choice. 
Herbert  .  .  . 

And  this  while  I  am  here  !  with  you ! 
And  there  are  hosts  such,  hosts  like  Vane  !    I  go, 
And,  I  once  gone,  they  '11  close  around  you,  sir, 
When  the  least  pique,  pettiest  mistrust,  is  sure 
To  ruin  me  —  and  you  along  with  me ! 
Do  you  see  that  ?    And  you  along  with  me  ! 
—  Sir,  you  '11  not  ever  listen  to  these  men, 
And  I  away,  fighting  your  battle  ?    Sir, 
If  they  —  if  She  —  charge  me,  no  matter  how  — 


256  STRAFFORD. 

Say  you,  "  At  any  time  when  he  returns 

His  head  is  mine  ! "    Don't  stop  me  there  !    You  know 

My  head  is  yours,  but  never  stop  me  there ! 

Cha.    Too   shameful,    Strafford !     You   advised  the 

war, 
And  .  .  . 

Straf.       III!  that  was  never  spoken  with 
Till  it  was  entered  on !    That  loathe  the  war ! 
That  say  it  is  the  maddest,  wickedest  .  .  . 
Do  you  know,  sir,  I  think,  within  my  heart, 
That  you  .would  say  I  did  advise  the  war ; 
And  if,  through  your  own  weakness,  or  what 's  worse, 
These  Scots,  with  God  to  help  them,  drive  me  back, 
You  will  not  step  between  the  raging  People 
And  me,  to  say  .  .  . 

I  knew  it !  from  the  first 
I  knew  it !    Never  was  so  cold  a  heart ! 
Remember  that  I  said  it  —  that  I  never 
Believed  you  for  a  moment ! 

—  And,  you  loved  me  ? 
You  thought  your  perfidy  profoundly  hid 
Because  I  could  not  share  the  whisperings 
With    Vane?     With    Savile ?     What,    the    face    was 

masked  ? 

I  had  the  heart  to  see,  sir !     Face  of  flesh, 
But  heart  of  stone  —  of  smooth,  cold,  frightful  stone ! 
Ay,  call  them !     Shall  I  call  for  you  ?     The  Scots 
Goaded  to  madness  ?     Or  the  English  —  Pym  — 
Shall  I  call  Pym,  your  subject  ?     Oh,  you  think 


STRAFFORD.  257 

I  '11  leave  them  in  the  dark  about  it  all  ? 

They  shall  not  know  you  ?    Hampden,  Pym  shall  not  ? 

PYM,  HAMPDEN,  VANE,  etc.  enter. 

[Dropping  on  Ms  knee.~\     Thus  favored  with  your  gra 
cious  countenance 

What  shall  a  rebel  League  avail  against 
Your  servant,  utterly  and  ever  yours  ? 
So,  gentlemen,  the  King 's  not  even  left 
The  privilege  of  bidding  me  farewell 
Who  haste  to  save  the  People  — that  you  style 
Your  People  —  from  the  mercies  of  the  Scots 
And  France  their  friend  ? 

[  To  CHARLES.]  Pym's  grave  gray  eyes  are  fixed 

Upon  you,  sir ! 

Your  pleasure,  gentlemen  ? 
Hamp.    The  King  dissolved  us  —  't  is  the  King  we 


And  not  Lord  Strafford. 

Straf.  —  Stratford,  guilty  too 

Of  counselling  the  measure.    \_To  CHARLES.]    (Hush.. 

you  know  — 

You  have  forgotten  —  sir,  I  counselled  it) 
A  heinous  matter,  truly !     But  the  King 
Will  yet  see  cause  to  thank  me  for  a  course 
Which  now,  perchance  .  .  .  (Sir,  tell  them  so !)  —  ho 

blames. 

Well,  choose  some  fitter  time  to  make  your  charge : 
I  shall  be  with  the  Scots,  you  understand  ? 
Then  yelp  at  me  ! 

Q 


258  STRAFFORD. 

Meanwhile,  your  Majesty 
Binds  me,  by  this  fresh  token  of  your  trust .  .  . 

[Under  the  pretence  of  an  earnest  farewell,  STRAFFORD  conducts 
CHARLES  to  the  door,  in  such  a  manner  as  to  hide  his  agitation 
from  the  rest:  as  the  King  disappears,  they  turn  as  by  one 
impulse  to  PYM,  who  has  not  changed  his  original  posture  of 
surprise. 

Hamp.  Leave  we  this  arrogant  strong  wicked  man ! 
Vane  and  others.   Hence,  Pym !      Come  out  of  this 

unworthy  place 
To  our  old  room  again !     He 's  gone. 

[STRAFFORD,  just  about  to  follow  the  King,  looks  back. 

Pym.  Not  gone ! 

\_To   STRAFFORD.]  Keep  tryst!  the  old  appointment's 

made  anew : 
Forget  not  we  shall  meet  again  ! 

Straf.  So  be  it! 

And  if  an  army  follows  me  ? 

Vane.  His  friends 

Will  entertain  your  army  ! 

Pym.  I  '11  not  say 

You  have  misreckoned,  Strafford :  time  shows.     Perish, 
Body  and  spirit !     Fool  to  feign  a  doubt, 
Pretend  the  scrupulous  and  nice  reserve 
Of  one  whose  prowess  should  achieve  the  feat ! 
"What  share  have  I  in  it  ?     Shall  I  affect 
To  see  no  dismal  sign  above  your  head 
When  God  suspends  his  ruinous  thunder  there  ? 
Stafford  is  doomed.     Touch  him  no  one  of  you ! 

[PrM,  HAMPDEN,  etc.  go  out. 


STRAFFORD.  259 

Straf.  Pym,  we  shall  meet  again  ! 

Lady  CARLISLE  enters. 

You  here,  child? 

Lady  Gar.  Hush  — 

I  know  it  all :  hush,  Strafford ! 

Straf.  Ah  ?  you  know  ? 

Well.     I  shall  make  a  sorry  soldier,  Lucy  \ 
All  knights  begin  their  enterprise,  we  read, 
Under  the  best  of  auspices ;  't  is  morn, 
The  Lady  girds  his  sword  upon  the  Youth 
(He  's  always  very  young)  —  the  trumpets  sound, 
Cups  pledge  him,  and,  why,  the  King  blesses  him  — 
You  need  not  turn  a  page  of  the  Romance 
To  learn  the  Dreadful  Giant's  fate.     Indeed. 
"We  've  the  fair  Lady  here ;  but  she  apart,  — 
A  poor  man,  rarely  having  handled  lance, 
And  rather  old,  weary,  and  far  from  sure 
His  Squires  are  not  the  Giant's  friends.     All 's  one : 
Let  us  go  forth  ! 

Lady  Car.  Go  forth  ? 

Straf.  What  matters  it  ? 

We  shall  die  gloriously  —  as  the  book  says. 

Lady  Car.  To  Scotland  ?  not  to  Scotland  ? 

Straf.  Am  I  sick 

Like  your  good  brother,  brave  Northumberland  ? 
Beside,  these  walls  seem  falling  on  me. 

Lady  Car.  Strafford, 

The  wind  that  saps  these  walls  can  undermine 
Your  camp  in  Scotland,  too.     Whence  creeps  the  wind  ? 


260  STRAFFORD. 

Have  you  no  eyes  except  for  Pym  ?     Look  here  ! 

A  breed  of  silken  creatures  lurk  and  thrive 

In  your  contempt.     You  '11  vanquish  Pym  ?     Old  Vane 

Can  vanquish  you !     And  Vane  you  think  to  fly  ? 

Rush  on  the  Scots !     Do  nobly  !     Vane's  slight  sneer 

Shall  test  success,  adjust  the  praise,  suggest 

The  faint  result :  Vane's  sneer  shall  reach  you  there. 

—  You  do  not  listen  ! 

Straf.  Oh,  —  I  give  that  up  ; 

There  's  fate  in  it :  I  give  all  here  quite  up. 
Care  not  what  old  Vane  does  or  Holland  does 
Against  me  !     'T  is  so 'idle  to  withstand  — 
In  no  case  tell  me  what  they  do ! 

Lady  Car.  But  Strafford  .  .  . 

Straf.  I  want  a  little  strife,  beside  ;  real  strife ; 
This  petty,  palace-warfare  does  me  harm : 
I  shall  feel  better,  fairly  out  of  it. 

Lady  Gar.  Why  do  you  smile  ? 

Straf.  I  got  to  fear  them,  child ! 

I  could  have  torn  his  throat  at  first,  old  Vane's, 
As  he  leered  at  me  on  his  stealthy  way 
To  the  Queen's  closet.     Lord,  one  loses  heart ! 
I  often  found  it  in  my  heart  to  say 
"  Do  not  traduce  me  to  her  !  " 

Lady  Car.  But  the  King  .  .  . 

Straf.     The  King  stood  there,  't  is  not  so  long  ago, 

—  There ;  and  the  whisper,  Lucy,  "  Be  my  friend 
Of  friends  ! "  —  My  King !     I  would  have  .  .  . 

Lady  Car.  .  .  .  Died  for  him  ? 


STRAFFORD.  261 

Straf.  Sworn  him  true,  Lucy :  I  can  die  for  him. 

Lady  Car.    But  go  not,  Strafford  !     But  you  must  re 
nounce 

This  project  on  the  Scots  !     Die !  wherefore  die  ? 
Charles  never  loved  you. 

Straf.  And  he  never  will. 

He 's  not  of  those  who  care  the  more  for  men 
That  they  're  unfortunate. 

Lady  Car.  Then  wherefore  die 

For  such  a  master  ? 

Straf.  You  that  told  me  first 

How  good  he  was  —  when  I  must  leave  true  friends 
To  find  a  truer  friend !  —  that  drew  me  here 
From  Ireland,  —  "I  had  but  to  show  myself 
And  Charles  would  spurn  Vane,  Savile,  and  the  rest "  — 
You,  child,  to  ask  me  this  ? 

Lady  Car.  (If  he  have  set 

His  heart  abidingly  on  Charles  !) 

Then,  friend, 
I  shall  not  see  you  any  more ! 

Straf.  Yes,  Lucy. 

There 's  one  man  here  I  have  to  meet. 

Lady  Car.  (The  King ! 

What  way  to  save  him  from  the  King  ? 

My  soul  — 

That  lent  from  its  own  store  the  charmed  disguise 
That  clothes  the  King  —  he  shall  behold  my  soul!) 
Strafford,  —  I  shall  speak  best  if  you  '11  not  gaze 
Upon  me :  I  had  never  thought,  indeed, 


262  STRAFFORD. 

To  speak,  but  you  would  perish,  too !     So  sure ! 

Could  you  but  know  what 't  is  to  bear,  my  friend, 

One  image  stamped  within  you,  turning  blank 

The  else  imperial  brilliance  of  your  mind,  — 

A  weakness,  but  most  precious,  —  like  a  flaw 

I'  the  diamond,  which  should  shape  forth  some  sweet 

face 

Yet  to  create,  and  meanwhile  treasured  there 
Lest  Nature  lose  her  gracious  thought  forever  ! 

Straf.   When  could  it  be  ?  no !     Yet .  .  was  it  the  day 
We  waited  in  the  anteroom,  till  Holland 
Should  leave  the  presence-chamber  ? 

Lady  Car.  What? 

Straf.  —That  I 

Described  to  you  my  love  for  Charles  ? 

Lady  Gar.  (Ah,  no  — 

One  must  not  lure  him  from  a  love  like  that ! 
O,  let  him  love  the  King  and  die  !     'T  is  past. 
I  shall  not  serve  him  worse  for  that  one  brief 
And  passionate  hope,  silent  forever  now  !) 
And  yo'u  are  really  bound  for  Scotland,  then  ? 
I  wish  you  well :  you  must  be  very  sure 
Of  the  King's  faith,  for  Pym  and  all  his  crew 
Will  not  be  idle  —  setting  Vane  aside  ! 

Straf.   If  Pym  is  busy,  —  you  may  write  of  Pym. 

Lady  Gar.   What  need,  since  there  's  your  King  to 

take  your  part  ? 

He  may  endure  Vane's  counsel ;  but  for  Pym  — 
Think  you  he  '11  suffer  Pym  to  .  .  . 


STRAFFORD.  263 

Straf.  Child,  your  hair 

Is  glossier  than  the  Queen's  ! 

Lady  Car.  Is  that  to  ask 

A  curl  of  me  ? 

Straf.  Scotland the  weary  way  ! 

Lady  Car.    Stay,  let  me  fasten  it. 

—  A  rival's,  Strafford  ? 

Straf.   [showing   the    George.~\      He   hung   it   there: 
twine  yours  around  it,  child  1 

Car.   No  —  no  —  another  time  —  I  trifle  so  ! 
And  there  's  a  masque  on  foot.     Farewell.     The  Court 
Is  dull ;  do  something  to  enliven  us 
In  Scotland  :  we  expect  it  at  your  hands. 

Straf.   I  shall  not  fall  in  Scotland. 

Lady  Car.  Prosper  —  if 

You  '11  think  of  me  sometimes  ! 

Straf.  How  think  of  him 

And  not  of  you  ?  of  you,  the  lingering  streak 
(A  golden  one)  in  my  good  fortune's  eve. 

Lady  Car.   Strafford  .  .  .  Well,  when  the  eve  has  its 

last  streak 
The  night  has  its  first  star.  [She  goes  out. 

Straf.  That  voice  of  hers  — 

You  'd  think  she  had  a  heart  sometimes  !     His  voice 
Is  soft  too. 

Only  God  can  save  him  now. 
Be  Thou  about  his  bed,  about  his  path ! 
His  path  !     Where  's  England's  path  ?     Diverging  wide 
And  not  to  join  again  the  track  my  foot 


264  STRAFFORD. 

Must  follow  —  whither  ?     All  that  forlorn  way 
Among  the  tombs  !     Far  —  far  —  till  .  .  .  What,  they  do 
Then  join  again,  these  paths  ?     For,  huge  in  the  dusk, 
There 's  —  Pym  to  face  ! 

Why  then,  I  have  a  foe 
To  close  with,  and  a  fight  to  fight  at  last 
Worthy  my  soul !     What,  do  they  beard  the  King, 
And  shall  the  King  want  Strafford  at  his  need  ? 
Am  I  not  here  ?     Not  in  the  market-place,  • 

Pressed  on  by  the  rough  artisans,  so  proud 
To  catch  a  glance  from  Wentworth  !     They  '11  lie  down 
Hungry  and  smile  "  Why,  it  must  end  some  day  — 
Is  he  not  watching  for  our  sake  ?  " 

—  Not  there ! 

But  in  Whitehall,  the  whited  sepulchre, 
The  .  .  . 

Curse  nothing  to-night !     Only  one  name 
They  '11   curse   in   all   those   streets   to-night.      Whose 

fault  ? 

Did  I  make  kings  ?  set  up,  the  first,  a  man 
To  represent  the  multitude,  receive 
All  love  in  right  of  them  —  supplant  them  so, 

Until  you  love  the  man  and  not  the  king • 

The  man  with  the  mild  voice  and  mournful  eyes 
Which  send  me  forth. 

—  To  breast  the  bloody  sea 
That  sweeps  before  me :  with  one  star  for  guide. 
Night  has  its  first,  supreme,  forsaken  star. 


STRAFFORD.  265 

ACT    III. 

SCENE  I.     Opposite  Westminster  Hall. 

Sir  HENRY  VANE,  Lord  SAVILE,  Lord  HOLLAND,  and  others  of 
the  Court. 

Sir  H.  Vane.   The  Commons  thrust  you  out  ? 

Savile.  And  what  kept  you 

From  sharing  their  civility  ? 

Sir  H.  Vane.  Kept  me  ? 

Fresh  news  from  Scotland,  sir  !  worse  than  the  last, 
If  that  may  be  !     All 's  up  with  StrafFord  there  : 
Nothing  to  bar  the  mad  Scots  marching  hither 
Next  Lord's-day  morning.     That  detained  me,  sir! 
Well  now,  before  they  thrust  you  out,  —  go  on,  — 
Their  Speaker  —  did  the  fellow  Lenthall  say 
All  we  set  down  for  him  ? 

Hoi.  Not  a  word  missed. 

Ere  he  began,  we  entered,  Savile,  I 
And  Bristol  and  some  more,  with  hope  to  breed 
A  wholesome  awe  in  the  new  Parliament. 
But  such  a  gang  of  graceless  ruffians,  Vane, 
As  glared  at  us  ! 

Vane.  So  many  ? 

Savile.  Not  a  bench 

Without  its  complement  of  burly  knaves  ; 
Tour  hopeful  son  among  them :    Hampden  leant 
Upon  his  shoulder  —  think  of  that ! 

Vane.  I M  think 

12 


266  STRAFFORD. 

On  Lenthall's  speech,  if  I  could  get  at  it. 
Urged  he,  I  ask,  how  grateful  they  should  prove 
For  this  unlooked-for  summons  from  the  King  ? 

Hoi.    Just  as  we  drilled  him. 

Vane.  That  the  Scots  will  march 

On  London? 

Hoi.  All,  and  made  so  much  of  it, 

A  dozen  subsidies  at  least  seemed  sure 
To  follow,  when  .  .  . 

Vane.  Well  ? 

Hoi.  'T  is  a  strange  thing  now  ! 

I  've  a  vague  memory  of  a  sort  of  sound, 
A  voice,  a  kind  of  vast,  unnatural  voice  — 
Pym,  sir,  was  speaking  !     Savile,  help  me  out : 
What  was  it  all  ? 

Sav.  Something  about  "  a  matter  "  — 

No,  —  "a  work  for  England." 

Hoi.  "  England's  great  revenge  " 

He  talked  of. 

Sav.  How  should  I  get  used  to  Pym 

More  than  yourselves  ? 

Hoi.     .  However  that  may  be, 

'T  was  something  with  which  we  had  naught  to  do, 
For    we    were    "  strangers "    and    't  was     "  England's 

work  "  — 

(All  this  while  looking  us  straight  in  the  face) 
In  other  words,  our  presence  might  be  spared. 
So,  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  before 
I  settled  to  my  mind  what  ugly  brute 


STRAFFORD.  267 

Was  likest  Pym  just  then,  they  yelled  us  out, 
Locked  the  doors  after  us,  and  here  are  we. 

Vane.   Eliot's  old  method  .  .  . 

Sav.  Prithee,  Vane,  a  truce 

To  Eliot  and  his  times,  and  the  great  Duke, 
And  how  to  manage  Parliaments !     'T  was  you 
Advised  the  Queen  to  summon  this  :  why,  Strafford 
(To  do  him  justice)  would  not  hear  of  it. 

Vane.   Say,  rather,  you  have  done  the  best  of  turns 
To  Strafford  :   he 's  at  York,  we  all  know  why. 
I  would  you  had  not  set  the  Scots  on  Strafford 
Till  Strafford  put  down  Pym  for  us,  my  lord  ! 

Sav.   Was  it  I  altered  Stafford's  plans  ?  did  I ... 
A  Messenger  enters. 

Mes.  The  Queen,  my  lords  —  she  sends  me :  follow  me 
At  once  ;  't  is  very  urgent !  she  requires 
Your  counsel :  something  perilous  and  strange 
Occasions  her  command. 

Sav.  We  follow,  friend ! 

Now,  Vane ;  —  your  Parliament  will  plague  us  all ! 

Vane.   No  Strafford  here  beside  ! 

Sav.  If  you  dare  hint 

I  had  a  hand  in  his  betrayal,  sir  ... 

Hoi.   Nay,  find  a  fitter  time  for  quarrels  —  Pym 
Will  overmatch  the  best  of  you  ;  and,  think, 
The  Queen ! 

Vane.  Come  on,  then  :  understand,  I  loathe 

Strafford  as  much  as  any  —  but  his  use  ! 
To  keep  off  Pym  —  to  screen  a  friend  or  two  ! 
I  would  we  had  reserved  him  yet  awhile. 


268  STRAFFORD. 

SCENE  II.  —  Whitehall 
The  QUEEN  and  Lady  CARLISLE. 

Queen.   It  cannot  be. 

Lady  Car.  It  is  so. 

Queen.  Why,  the  House 

Have  hardly  met. 

Lady  Car.  They  met  for  that. 

Queen.  No,  no ! 

Meet  to  impeach  Lord  Strafford  ?     T  is  a  jest. 

Lady  Car.   A  bitter  one. 

Queen.  Consider  !    'T  is  the  House 

We  summoned  so  reluctantly,  which  nothing 
But  the  disastrous  issue  of  the  war 
Persuaded  us  to  summon.     They  '11  wreak  all 
Their  spite  on  us,  no  doubt ;  but  the  old  way 
Is  to  begin  by  talk  of  grievances : 
They  have  their  grievances  to  busy  them. 

Lady  Car.    Pym  has  begun  his  speech. 

Queen.  Where 's  Vane  ?  —  That  is, 

Pym  will  impeach  Lord  Strafford  if  he  leaves 
His  Presidency  ;  he 's  at  York,  we  know, 
Since  the  Scots  beat  him :  why  should  he  leave  York  ? 

Lady  Car.   Because  the  King  sent  for  him. 

Queen.  Ah  — but  if 

The  King  did  send  for  him,  he  let  him  know 
We  had  been  forced  to  call  a  Parliament  — 


STRAFFORD.  269 

A  step  which.  Strafford,  now  I  come  to  think, 
Was  vehement  against. 

Lady  Car.  The  policy 

Escaped  him,  of  first  striking  Parliaments 
To  earth,  then  setting  them  upon  their  feet 
And  giving  them  a  sword  :  but  this  is  idle. 
Did  the  King  send  for  Strafford  ?    He  will  come. 

Queen.   And  what  am  I  to  do  ? 

Lady  Car.  What  do  ?    Fail,  madam ! 

Be  ruined  for  his  sake !  what  matters  how, 
So  it  but  stand  on  record  that  you  made 
An  effort,  only  one  ? 

Queen.  The  King  's  away 

At  Theobalds. 

Lady  Car.       Send  for  him  at  once  :  he  must 
Dissolve  the  House. 

Queen.  Wait  till  Vane  finds  the  truth 

Of  the  report:  then  .  . 

Lady  Car.  —  It  will  matter  little 

What  the  King  does.     Strafford  that  lends  his  arm, 
And  breaks  his  heart  for  you  ! 

Sir  H.  VANE  enters. 

Vane.  The  Commons,  madam, 

Are  sitting  with  closed  doors.     A  huge  debate, 
No  lack  of  noise ;  but  nothing,  I  should  guess, 
Concerning  Strafford :  Pym  has  certainly 
Not  spoken  yet. 

Queen.  [  To  Lady  CARLISLE.]  You  hear  ? 


270  STRAFFORD. 

Lady  Car.  I  do  not  hear 

That  the  King  's  sent  for ! 

Sir  H.  Vane.  Savile  will  be  able 

To  tell  you  more. 

HOLLAND  enters. 

Queen.  The  last  news,  Holland  ? 

Hoi.  Pym 

Is  raging  like  a  fire.     The  whole  House  means 
To  follow  him  together  to  Whitehall 
And  force  the  King  to  give  up  Strafford. 

Queen.  Strafford? 

Hoi.  If  they  content  themselves  with  Strafford !    Laud 
Is  talked  of,  Cottington  and  Windebank  too, 
Pym  has  not  left  out  one  of  them  —  I  would 
You  heard  Pym  raging  ! 

Queen.  Vane,  go  find  the  King  ! 

Tell  the  King,  Vane,  the  People  follow  Pym 
To  brave  us  at  Whitehall ! 

SAVILE  enters. 

Savile.  Not  to  Whitehall  — 

'T  is  to  the  Lords  they  go  :  they  '11  seek  redress 
On  Strafford  from  his  peers  —  the  legal  way, 
They  call  it. 

Queen.          (Wait,  Vane !) 

Sav.  But  the  adage  gives 

Long  life  to  threatened  men.     Strafford  can  save 
Himself  so  readily :  at  York,  remember, 
In  his  own  county,  what  has  he  to  fear  ? 


STRAFFORD.  271 

The  Commons  only  mean  to  frighten  him 
From  leaving  York.     Surely,  he  will  not  come. 

Queen.  Lucy,  he  will  not  come  ! 

Lady  Car.  Once  more,  the  King 

Has  sent  for  Strafford.     He  will  come. 

Vane.  Oh,  doubtless ! 

And  bring  destruction  with  him ;  that  'a  his  way. 
What  but  his  coming  spoilt  all  Con  way's  plan  ? 
The  King  must  take  his  counsel,  choose  his  friends, 
Be  wholly  ruled  by  him !     What 's  the  result  ? 
The  North  that  was  to  rise,  Ireland  to  help,  — 
What  came  of  it  ?     In  my  poor  mind,  a  fright 
Is  no  prodigious  punishment. 

Lady  Car.  A  fright  ? 

Pym  will  fail  worse  than  Strafford  if  he  thinks 
To  frighten  him.     [  To  the  QUEEN.]     You  will  not  save 
him,  then  ? 

Sav.   When   something  like   a   charge   is   made,  the 

King 

Will  best  know  how  to  save  him :  and  't  is  clear, 
While  Strafford  suffers  nothing  by  the  matter, 
The  King  may  reap  advantage  :  this  in  question, 
No  dinning  you  with  ship-money  complaints ! 

Queen.   \_To  Lady  CARLISLE.]  If  we  dissolve  them, 

who  will  pay  the  army  ? 
Protect  us  from  the  insolent  Scots  ? 

Lady  Car.  In  truth 

I  know  not,  madam.     Strafford's  fate  concerns 
Me  little :  you  desired  to  learn  what  course 


272  STRAFFORD. 

Would  save  him :  I  obey  you. 

Vane.  Notice,  too, 

There  can't  be  fairer  ground  for  taking  full 
Revenge —  (Strafford's  revengeful)  — -than  he'll  have 
Against  his  old  friend  Pym. 

Queen.  Why,  he  shall  claim 

Vengeance  on  Pym ! 

Vane.  And  Strafford,  who  is  he 

To  'scape  unscathed  amid  the  accidents 
That  harass  all  beside  ?     I,  for  my  part, 
Should  look  for  something  like  discomfiture 
Had  the  King  trusted  me  so  thoroughly 
And  been  so  paid  for  it. 

Hoi  He  '11  keep  at  York : 

All  will  blow  over :  he  '11  return  no  worse, 
Humbled  a  little,  thankful  for  a  place 
Under  as  good  a  man.     Oh,  we  '11  dispense 
With  seeing  Strafford  for  a  month  or  two  ! 
STEAFFORD  enters. 

Queen.  You  here ! 

Straf.  The  King  sends  for  me,  madam. 

Queen.  Sir, 

The  King  .  .  . 

Straf.         An  urgent  matter  that  imports  the  King. 
[To  Lady  CARLISLE.]  Why,  Lucy,  what 's  in  agitation 

now 

That  all  this  muttering  and  shrugging,  see, 
Begins  at  me  ?     They  do  not  speak ! 

Car.  'T  is  welcome  ! 


STRAFFORD.  273 

For  we  are  proud  of  you  —  happy  and  proud 
To  have  you  with  us,  Strafford !  you  were  stanch 
At  Durham :  you  did  well  there !     Had  you  not 
Been  stayed,  you  might  have  ....  we  said,  even  now, 
Our  hope 's  in  you ! 

Sir  H.  Vane.  [To  Lady  CARLISLE.]  The  Queen  would 
speak  with  you. 

Straf.  Will  one  of  you,  his  servants  here,  vouchsafe 
To  signify  my  presence  to  the  King  ? 

Sav.  An  urgent  matter  ? 

Siraf.  None  that  touches  you, 

Lord  Savile !     Say,  it  were  some  treacherous, 
Sly,  pitiful  intriguing  with  the  Scots  — 
You  would  go  free,  at  least !     (They  half  divine 
My  purpose !)     Madam,  shall  I  see  the  King  ? 
The  service  I  would  render,  much  concerns 
His  welfare. 

Queen.          But  his  Majesty,  my  lord, 
May  not  be  here,  may  .  .  . 

Straf.  Its  importance,  then, 

Must  plead  excuse  for  this  withdrawal,  madam, 
And  for  the  grief  it  gives  Lord  Savile  here. 

Queen,  [who  has  been  conversing  with  VANE  and  HOL 
LAND.]  The  King  will  see  you,  sir. 
[  To  Lady  CARLISLE.]  Mark  me  :  Pym's  worst 

Is  done  by  now  :  he  has  impeached  the  Earl, 
Or  found  the  Earl  too  strong  for  him,  by  now. 
Let  us  not  seem  instructed  !     We  should  work 
No  good  to  Strafford,  but  deform  ourselves 

12*  R 


274  STRAFFORD. 

With  shame  in  the  world's  eye.    \_To  STRAFFORD.]    His 

Majesty 
Has  much  to  say  with  you. 

Straf.  Time  fleeting,  too  ! 

\_To   Lady   CARLISLE.]      No   means   of  getting   them 

away  ?     And  She  — 

What   does   she  whisper  ?      Does   she   know   my   pur 
pose  ? 
What  does  she  think  of  it  ?     Get  them  away ! 

Queen.     \_To  Lady  CARLISLE.]     He  comes  to  baffle 

Pym-^-he  thinks  the  danger 
Far  off :  tell  him  no  word  of  it !  a  time  • 

For  help  will  come  ;  we  '11  not  be  wanting  then. 
Keep  him  in  play,  Lucy  —  you,  self-possessed 
And  calm !     [  To  STRAFFORD.]     To  spare  your  Lord 
ship  some  delay 

I  will  myself  acquaint  the  King.     [  To  Lady  CARLISLE.] 
Beware ! 

[ The  QUEEN,  VANE,  HOLLAND,  and  SAVILE  go  out. 
Straf.    She  knows  it  ? 
Lady  Car.  Tell  me,  Strafford  ! 

Straf.  Afterward ! 

This  moment 's  the  great  moment  of  all  time. 
She  knows  my  purpose  ? 

Lady  Car.  Thoroughly :  just  now 

She  bade  me  hide  it  from  you. 

Straf.  Quick,  dear  child, 

The  whole  o'  the  scheme  ? 

Lady  Car.  (Ah,  he  would  learn  if  they 


STRAFFORD.  275 

Connive  at  Pym's  procedure  !     Could  they  but 
Have  once  apprised  the  King !     But  there  's  no  time 
For  falsehood,  now.)     Strafford,  the  whole  is  known. 

Straf.    Known  and  approved  ? 

Lady  Car.  Hardly  discountenanced. 

Straf.   And  the  King  —  say,  the  King   consents  as 
well? 

Lady  Car.   The  King's  not  yet  informed,  but  will 

not  dare 
To  interpose. 

Straf.  What  need  to  wait  him,  then  ? 

He  '11  sanction  it !     I  stayed,  child,  tell  him,  long  ! 
It  vexed  me  to  the  soul  —  this  waiting  here. 
You  know  him,  there  's  no  counting  on  the  King. 
Tell  him  I  waited  long  ! 

Lady  Gar.  (What  can  he  mean  ? 

Rejoice  at  the  King's  hollo wness  ?) 

Straf.  I  knew 

They  would  be  glad  of  it,  —  all  over  once, 
I  knew  they  would  be  glad :  but  he  'd  contrive, 
The  Queen  and  he,  to  mar,  by  helping  it, 
An  angel's  making. 

Lady  Car.    (Is  he  mad  ?)     Dear  Strafford, 
You  were  not  wont  to  look  so  happy. 

Straf.  Sweet, 

I  tried  obedience  thoroughly.     I  took 
The  King's  wild  plan :  of  course,  ere  I  could  reach 
My  army,  Conway  ruined  it.     I  drew 
The  wrecks  together,  raised  all  heaven  and  earth, 


276  STRAFFORD. 

And  would  have  fought  the  Scots  :  the  King  at  once 
Made  truce  with  them.     Then,  Lucy,  then,  dear  child, 
God  put  it  in  my  mind  to  love,  serve,  die 
For  Charles,  but  never  to  obey  him  more  ! 
While  he  endured  their  insolence  at  Ripon 
I  fell  on  them  at  Durham.     But  you  '11  tell 
The  King  I  waited  ?     All  the  anteroom 
Is  filled  with  my  adherents. 

Lady  Car,  Strafford  —  Stratford, 

What  daring  act  is  this  you  hint  ? 

Straf.  No,  no ! 

'T  is  here,  not  daring  if  you  knew !  all  here ! 

[Drawing  papers  from  his  breast. 

Full  proof,  see,  ample  proof — does  the  Queen  know 
I  have  such  damning  proof?     Bedford  and  Essex, 
Broke,  Warwick,  Savile  (did  you  notice  Savile  ? 
The  simper  that  I  spoilt  ?)  Saye,  Mandeville  — 
Sold  to  the  Scots,  body  and  soul,  by  Pym  ? 

Lady  Car.    Great  heaven  ! 

Straf.       .  From  Savile  and  his  lords,  to  Pym 

And  his  losels,  crushed !  —  Pym  shall  not  ward  the  blow 
Nor  Savile  creep  aside  from  it !     The  Crew 
And  the  Cabal  —  I  crush  them  ! 

Lady  Gar.  And  you  go  — 

Strafford,  —  and  now  you  go  ?  — 

Straf.  —  About  no  work 

In  the  background,  I  promise  you !     I  go 
Straight  to  the  House  of  Lords  to  claim  these  knaves. 
Mainwaring ! 


STRAFFORD.  277 

Lady  Car.    Stay  —  stay,  Strafford  ! 

Straf.  She  '11  return, 

The  Queen  —  some  little  project  of  her  own ! 
No  time  to  lose :  the  King  takes  fright  perhaps. 

Lady  Car.   Pym  's  strong,  remember ! 

Straf.  Very  strong,  as  fits 

The  Faction's  head  —  with  no  offence  to  Hampden, 
Vane,  Rudyard,  and  my  loving  Hollis  —  one 
And  all  they  lodge  within  the  Tower  to-night 
In  just  equality.     Bryan  !     Mainwaring  ! 

[Many  of  his  Adherents  enter. 
The  Peers  debate  just  now  (a  lucky  chance) 
On  the  Scots'  war ;  my  visit 's  opportune. 
When  all  is  over,  Bryan,  you  '11  proceed 
To  Ireland :  these  despatches,  mark  me,  Bryan, 
Are  for  the  Deputy,  and  these  for  Ormond : 
We  want  the  army  here  —  my  army,  raised 
At  such  a  cost,  that  should  have  done  such  good, 
And  was  inactive  all  the  time  !  no  matter, 
We  '11  find  a  use  for  it.     Willis  ...  or,  no  —  You  ! 
You,  friend,  make  haste  to  York :  bear  this,  at  once  .  .  . 
Or,  —  better  stay  for  form's  sake  —  see  yourself 
The  news  you  carry.     You  remain  with  me 
To  execute  the  Parliament's  command, 
Mainwaring  !  help  to  seize  the  lesser  knaves  ; 
Take  care  there 's  no  escaping  at  backdoors : 
I  '11  not  have  one  escape,  mind  me  —  not  one ! 
I  seem  revengeful,  Lucy  ?     Did  you  know 
What  these  men  dare  ! 


278  STRAFFORD. 

Lady  Gar.  It  is  so  much  they  dare  ! 

Straf.    I  proved  that  long  ago ;  my  turn  is  now  ! 
Keep  sharp  watch,  Goring,  on  the  citizens ; 
Observe  who  harbors  any  of  the  brood 
That  scramble  off:  be  sure  they  smart  for  it ! 
Our  coffers  are  but  lean. 

And  you,  child,  too, 

Shall  have  your  task ;  deliver  this  to  Laud. 
Laud  will  not  be  the  slowest  in  my  praise : 
"  Thorough  "  he  '11  say !  —  Foolish,  to  be  so  glad  ! 
This  life  is  gay  and  glowing,  after  all : 
'T  is  worth  while,  Lucy,  having  foes  like  mine 
Just  for  the  bliss  of  crushing  them.     To-day 
Is  worth  the  living  for. 

Lady  Car.  That  reddening  brow  ! 

You  seem  .  .  . 

Straf.  Well  —  do  I  not  ?     I  would  be  well  — 

I  could  not  but  be  well  on  such  a  day ! 
And,  this  day  ended,  't  is  of  slight  import 
How  long  the  ravaged  frame  subjects  the  soul 
In  Strafford. 

Lady  Car.     Noble  Strafford ! 

Straf.  No  farewell ! 

I  '11  see  you  anon,  to-morrow  —  the  first  thing. 
—  If  She  should  come  to  stay  me  ! 

Lady  Car.  Go  —  't  is  nothing  — 

Only  my  heart  that  swells  :  it  has  been  thus 
Ere  now :  go,  Strafford  ! 

Straf.  To-night,  then,  let  it  be. 


STRAFFORD.  279 

I  must  see  Him  :  you,  the  next  after  Him. 

I  '11  tell  you  how  Pym  looked.     Follow  me,  friends  ! 

You,  gentlemen,  shall  see  a  sight  this  hour 

To  talk  'of  all  your  lives.     Close  after  me  ! 

"  My  friend  of  friends  ! " 

[STRAFFORD  and  the  rest  go  out. 

Lady  Car.  The  King  —  ever  the  King ! 

No  thought  of  one  beside,  whose  little  word 
Unveils  the  King  to  him  —  one  word  from  me, 
"Which  yet  I  do  not  breathe  ! 

Ah,  have  I  spared 

Strafford  a  pang,  and  shall  I  seek  reward 
Beyond  that  memory  ?     Surely  too,  some  way 
He  is  the  better  for  my  love.     No,  no  — 
He  would  not  look  so  joyous  —  I  '11  believe 
His  very  eye  would  never  sparkle  thus, 
Had  I  not  prayed  for  him  this  long,  long  while. 


SCENE  III.  —  The  Antechamber  of  the  House  of  Lords. 
Many  of  the  Presbyterian  Party.    The  Adherents  of  STRAFFORD,  etc. 

A  Group  of  Presbyterians.  —  I.I  tell  you  he  struck 

Maxwell :  Maxwell  sought 
To  stay  the  Earl :  he  struck  him  and  passed  on. 

2.  Fear  as  you  may,  keep  a  good  countenance 
Before  these  rufflers. 

3.  Strafford  here  the  first, 
With  the  great  army  at  his  back ! 


280  STKAFFORD. 

4.  No  doubt. 

I  would  Pym  had  made  haste :  that 's  Bryan,  hush  — 
The  gallant  pointing. 

Str  a  ford's  Followers.  —  1.  Mark  these  worthies,  now  ! 

2.  A  goodly  gathering  !  "  Where  the  carcass  is 
There  shall  the  eagles  "  —  what 's  the  rest  ? 

3.  For  eagles 
Say  crows. 

A  Presbyterian.    Stand  back,  sirs  ! 

One  of  Strajford's  Followers.          Are  we  in  Geneva  ? 

A  Presbyterian.    No  —  nor  in  Ireland ;  we  have  leave 

to  breathe. 
One  of  Stafford's  Followers.     Truly  ?     Behold  how 

privileged  we  be 

To  serve  "  King  Pym  "  !     There 's  Some-one  at  White 
hall 
Who  skulks  obscure  ;  but  Pym  struts  .  .  . 

The  Presbyterian.  Nearer. 

A  Follower  of  Stratford.  Higher, 

We  look  to  see  him.  [  To  his  Companions.]  I  'm  to  have 

St.  John 

In  charge ;  was  he  among  the  knaves  just  now 
That  followed  Pym  within  there  ? 

Another.  The  gaunt  man 

Talking  with  Rudyard.     Did  the  Earl  expect 
Pym  at  his  heels  so  fast  ?     I  like  it  not. 

MAXWELL   enters. 

Another.  Why,  man,  they  rush  into  the  net !     Here 's 
Maxwell  — 


STKAFFORD.  281 

Ha,  Maxwell  ?     How  the  brethren  flock  around 
The  fellow !     Do  you  feel  the  Earl's  hand  yet 
Upon  your  shoulder,  Maxwell  ? 

Max.  Gentlemen, 

Stand  back !  A  great  thing  passes  here. 

A  Follower  of  Strafford.  [  To  another.']  The  Earl 
Is  at  his  work!    [To  M.]    Say,   Maxwell,   what   great 

thing ! 

Speak  out !  [  To  a  Presbyterian.]  Friend,  I  've  a  kind 
ness  for  you  !     Friend, 

I  've  seen  you  with  St.  John  :  O  stockishness  ! 
Wear  such  a  ruff,  and  never  call  to  mind 
St.  John's  head  in  a  charger  ?     How,  the  plague, 
Not  laugh  ? 

Another.     Say,  Maxwell,  what  great  thing  ! 

Another.  Nay,  wait : 

The  jest  will  be  to  wait. 

First.  And  who 's  to  bear 

These  demure  hypocrites  ?     You  'd  swear  they  came  .  .  . 
Came  .  .  .  just  as  we  come ! 

[A  Puritan  enters  hastily  and  without  observing  STRAFFORD'S 
Followers. 

The  Puritan.  How  goes  on  the  work  ? 

Has  Pym  .  .  . 

A  Follower  of  Strafford.    The  secret's  out   at   last, 

Aha, 

The  carrion 's  scented  !     Welcome,  crow  the  first ! 
Gorge  merrily,  you  with  the  blinking  eye ! 
"  King  Pym  has  fallen  I " 


Library 

Or'  caii 


282  STRAFFORD. 

The  Puritan.  Pym  ? 

A  Straffbrd.  ~Pym  I 

A  Presbyterian.  Only  Pym  ? 

Many  of  Stafford's  Followers.     No,  brother,  not  Pym 

only  ;  Vane  as  well, 
Rudyard  as  well,  Hampden,  St.  John  as  well ! 

A  Presbyterian.    My  mind  misgives  :  can  it  be  true  ? 

Another.  Lost !    Lost ! 

A  Straffbrd.    Say  we  true,  Maxwell  ? 

The  Puritan.  Pride  before  destruction, 

A  haughty  spirit  goeth  before  a  fall. 

Many  of  Straffbrd' s  Followers.    Ah  now  !     The  very 

thing  !  A  word  in  season  ! 
A  golden  apple  in  a  silver  picture, 
To  greet  Pym  as  he  passes  ! 

[The  doors  at  the  back  begin  to  open,  noise  and  light  issuing. 

Max.  Stand  back,  all ! 

Many  of  the  Presbyterians.    I  hold  with  Pym !  And  I ! 

Stafford's  Followers.    Now  for  the  text ! 
He  comes  !    Quick  ! 

The  Puritan.  How  hath  the  oppressor  ceased  ! 

The  Lord  hath  broken  the  staff  of  the  wicked  ! 
The  sceptre  of  the  rulers,  he  who  smote 
The  people  in  wrath  with  a  continual  stroke, 
That  ruled  the  nations  in  his  anger  —  he 
Is  persecuted  and  none  hindereth  ! 

[The  doors  open,  and  SIR  AFFORD  issues  in  the  greatest  disorder, 
and  amid  cries  from  within  of  "  Void  the  House." 

Straf.    Impeach  me  !    Pyin  !    I  never  struck,  I  think, 


STRAFFORD.  283 

The  felon  on  that  calm  insulting  mouth 

When  it  proclaimed  —  Pym's  mouth  proclaimed  me  .  . 

God! 

Was  it  a  word,  only  a  word  that  held 
The  outrageous  blood  back  on  my  heart  —  which  beats  ! 
Which  beats !     Some  one  word  —  "  Traitor,"  did  he  say, 
Bending  that  eye,  brimful  of  bitter  fire, 
Upon  me  ? 

Max.         In  the  Commons'  name,  their  servant 
Demands  Lord  StrafFord's  sword. 

Straf.  What  did  you  say  ? 

Max.    The   Commons   bid   me   ask   your   Lordship's 
sword. 

Straf.   Let  us  go  forth  :  follow  me,  gentlemen ! 
Draw  your  swords  too  :  cut  any  down  that  bar  us. 
On  the  King's  service !     Maxwell,  clear  the  way ! 

[The  Presbyterians  prepare  to  dispute  his  passage, 

Straf.   I  stay  :  the  King  himself  shall  see  me  here. 
Your  tablets,  fellow ! 

[  To  MAIN  WARING.]     Give  that  to  the  King ! 
Yes,  Maxwell,  for  the  next  half-hour,  let  be  ! 
Nay,  you  shall  take  my  sword  ! 

[MAXWELL  advances  to  take  it. 

Or,  no  —  not  that ! 

Their  blood,  perhaps,  may  wipe  out  all  thus  far, 
All  up  to  that  —  not  that !    Why,  friend,  you  see, 
When  the  King  lays  your  head  beneath  my  foot 
It  will  not  pay  for  that.     Go,  all  of  you  ! 

Max.   I  dare,  my  lord,  to  disobey  :  none  stir ! 


284  STRAFFORD. 

Straf.   This  gentle   Maxwell !  —  Do   not  touch  him, 

Bryan ! 
\_To   the  Presbyterians.]     Whichever   cur   of  you   will 

carry  this 

Escapes  his  fellows'  fate.     None  saves  his  life  ? 
None  ? 

[Cries  from  ivithin  of  "  STRAFFORD." 
Slingsby,  I  've  loved  you  at  least :  make  haste  T 
Stab  me !   I  have  not  time  to  tell  you  why. 
You  then,  my  Bryan  !   Mainwaring,  you,  then ! 
Is  it  because  I  spoke  so  hastily 
At  Allerton  ?     The  King  had  vexed  me. 
[  To  the  Presbyterians.]  You  ! 

—  Not  even  you  ?     If  I  live  over  this, 
The  King  is  sure  to  have  your  heads,  you  know ! 
But  what  if  I  can't  live  this  minute  through  ? 
Pym,  who  is  there  with  his  pursuing  smile ! 

[Louder  cries  of  "  STRAFFORD." 
The  King !     I  troubled  him,  stood  in  the  way 
Of  his  negotiations,  was  the  one 
Great  obstacle  to  peace,  the  Enemy 
Of  Scotland  :  and  he  sent  for  me,  from  York, 
My  safety  guaranteed  —  having  prepared 
A  Parliament  —  I  see  !  And  at  Whitehall 
The  Queen  was  whispering  with  Vane  —  I  see 
The  trap  !  [  Tearing  off  the  George. 

I  tread  a  gewgaw  underfoot, 
And  cast  a  memory  from  me.     One  stroke,  now ! 
[His  own  adherents  disarm  him.     Renewed  cries  of  "STRAFFORD." 


STRAFFORD.  285 

England  !    I  see  thy  arm  in  this  and  yield. 

Pray  you  now  —  Pym  awaits  me  —  pray  you  now  ! 

[STRAFFORD  reaches  the  doors :  they  open  wide.     HAMPDEN, 

and  a  crowd  discovered,  and,  at  the  bar,  PYM  standing  apart. 

As  STRAFFORD  kneels,  the  scene  shuts. 


ACT    IV. 

SCENE  I.  —  Whitehall 

TJie  KING,  the  QUEEN,  HOLLIS,  Lady  CARLISLE.     (VANE,  HOL 
LAND,  SAVILE,  in  the  background.) 

Lady  Car.    Answer  them,  Hollis,  for  his  sake !     One 

word ! 
Cha.    {To  HOLLIS.]     You  stand,  silent  and  cold,  as 

though  I  were 

Deceiving  you  —  my  friend,  my  playfellow 
Of  other  times.     What  wonder  after  all  ? 
Just  so,  I  dreamed  my  People  loved  me. 

Hoi.  Sir, 

It  is  yourself  that  you  deceive,  not  me. 
You  '11  quit  me"  comforted,  your  mind  made  up 
That,  since  you  Ve  talked  thus  much  and  grieved  thus 

much, 
All  you  can  do  for  StrafFord  has  been  done. 

Queen.   If  you  kill  Strafford —  (come,  we  grant  you 

leave, 
Suppose)  — 


286  STRAFFORD. 

Hol.  I  may  withdraw,  sir  ? 

Lady  Car.  Hear  them  out ! 

'T  is  the  last  chance  for  Strafford  !     Hear  them  out ! 

Hol.   "  If  we  kill  Strafford  "  —  on  the  eighteenth  day 
Of  Stafford's  trial  —  "  We  I " 

Cha.  Pyni,  my  good  Hollis  — 

Pym,  I  should  say ! 

Hol.  Ah,  true  —  sir,  pardon  me  ! 

You  witness  our  proceedings  every  day ; 
But  the  screened  gallery,  I  might  have  guessed, 
Admits  of  such  a  partial  glimpse  at  us, 
Pym  takes  up  all  the  room,  shuts  out  the  view. 
Still,  on  my  honor,  sir,  the  rest  of  the  place 
Is  not  unoccupied.     The  Commons  sit 
—  That 's  England ;  Ireland  sends,  and  Scotland  too, 
Their  representatives  ;  the  Peers  that  judge 
Are  easily  distinguished  ;  one  remarks 
The  People  here  and  there :  but  the  close  curtain 
Must  hide  so  much  ! 

Queen.  Acquaint  your  insolent  crew, 

This  day  the  curtain  shall  be  dashed  aside  ! 
It  served  a  purpose. 

Hol.  Think !     This  very  day  ? 

Ere  Strafford  rises  to  defend  himself? 

Cha.   I  will  defend  him,  sir  !  —  sanction  the  Past 
This  day :  it  ever  was  my  purpose.     Rage 
At  me,  not  Strafford  ! 

Lady  Gar.  Nobly !  —  will  he  not 

Do  nobly  ? 


STRAFFORD.  287 

Hol  Sir,  you  will  do  honestly ; 

And,  for  that  deed,  I  too  would  be  a  king. 

Cha.   Only,  to  do  this  now  !  —  "  deaf"  (in  your  style) 
"  To  subjects'  prayers,"  —  I  must  oppose  them  now. 
It  seems  their  will  the  Trial  should  proceed,  — 
So  palpably  their  will ! 

Hol.  You  peril  much, 

But  it  were  no  bright  moment  save  for  that. 
Strafford,  your  prime  support,  the  sole  roof-tree 
That  props  this  quaking  House  of  Privilege, 
(Floods  come,  winds  beat,  and  see  —  the  treacherous 

sand !) 

Doubtless,  if  the  mere  putting  forth  an  arm 
Could  save  him,  you  'd  save  Strafford. 

Cha.  And  they  mean 

Calmly  to  consummate  this  wrong  !     No  hope  ? 
This  ineffaceable  wrong !     No  pity  then  ? 

Hol.   No  plague  in  store  for  perfidy  ?  —  Farewell ! 
You  called  me,  sir  —  \_To  Lady  CARLISLE]  you,  lady, 

bade  me  come 

To  save  the  Earl :  I  came,  thank  God  for  it, 
To  learn  how  far  such  perfidy  can  go  ! 
You,  sir,  concert  with  me  on  saving  him 
Who  have  just  ruined  Strafford ! 

Cha.  I  ?  —  and  how  ? 

Hol.   Eighteen  days  long  he  throws,  one  after  one, 
Pym's  charges  back :  a  blind  moth-eaten  law  ! 
—  He  '11  break  from  it  at  last :  and  whom  to  thank  ? 
The  mouse  that  gnawed  the  lion's  net  for  him 


288  STRAFFORD. 

Got  a  good  friend,  —  but  he,  the  other  mouse, 

That  looked  on  while  the  lion  freed  himself 

Fared  he  so  well,  does  any  fable  say  ? 

Cha.   What  can  you  mean  ? 

Hoi.  Pym  never  could  have  proved 

Strafford's  design  of  bringing  up  the  troops 
To  force  this  kingdom  to  obedience  :  Vane  — 
Your  servant,  not  our  friend,  has  proved  it. 

Cha.  Vane  ? 

Hoi.   This  day.     Did  Vane  deliver  up  or  no 
Those  notes  which,  furnished  by  his  son  to  Pym, 
Seal  Strafford's  fate  ? 

Cha.  Sir,  as  I  live,  I  know 

Nothing  that  Vane  has  done  !     What  treason  next  ? 
I  wash  my  hands  of  it.     Vane,  speak  the  truth  ! 
Ask  Vane  himself! 

Hoi.  I  will  not  speak  to  Vane 

Who  speak  to  Pym  and  Hampden  every  day. 

Queen.   Speak  to  Vane's  master  then !     What  gain 

to  him 
Were  Strafford's  death  ? 

Hoi.  Ha  ?     Strafford  cannot  turn 

As  you,  sir,  sit  there  —  bid  you  forth,  demand 
If  every  hateful  act  were  not  set  down 
In  his  commission  ?  —  Whether  you  contrived 
Or  no,  that  all  the  violence  should  seem 
His  work,  the  gentle  ways  —  your  own,  his  part 
To  counteract  the  King's  kind  impulses  — 
While  .  .  .  but  you  know  what  he  could  say  !     And  then 


STRAFFORD.  289 

He  might  produce,  —  mark,  sir,  —  a  certain  charge 

To  set  the  King's  express  command  aside, 

If  need  were,  and  be  blameless  !     He  might  add  .  . 

Of i  a.    Enough  ! 

Hoi.  —  Who  bade  him  break  the  Parliament, 

Find  some  pretext  for  setting  up  sword-law  ! 

Queen.   Retire ! 

Cha.  Once  more,  whatever  Vane  dared  do, 

I  know  not :  he  is  rash,  a  fool  —  I  know 
Nothing  of  Vane ! 

Hoi  Well  —  I  believe  you.  ,  Sir, 

Believe  me,  in  return,  that ... 
[Turning  to  Lady  CARLISLE.]     Gentle  lady, 
The  few  words  I  would  say,  the  stones  might  hear 
Sooner  than  these,  —  I  rather  speak  to  you, 
You,  with  the  heart !     The  question,  trust  me,  takes 
Another  shape,  to-day :  not,  if  the  King 
Or  England  shall  succumb,  —  but,  who  shall  pay 
The  forfeit,  Strafford  or  his  master.     Sir, 
You  loved  me  once  :  think  on  my  warning  now  ! 

[  Goes  out. 

Cha.   On  you  and  on  your  warning  both !  —  Carlisle  ! 
That  paper ! 

Queen.         But  consider ! 

Cha.  Give  it  me ! 

There,  signed  —  will  that  content  you  ?     Do  not  speak  ! 
You  have  betrayed  me,  Vane.     See !  any  day, 
According  to  the  tenor  of  that  paper, 
He  bids  your  brother  bring  the  army  up, 

13  s 


290  STRAFFORD. 

Strafford  shall  head  it  and  take  full  revenge. 
Seek  Strafford  !     Let  him  have  the  same,  before 
He  rises  to  defend  himself ! 

Queen.  In  truth  ? 

That  your  shrewd  Hollis  should  have  worked  a  change 
Like  this  !     You,  late  reluctant .  .  ; 

Oha.  Say,  Carlisle 

Your  brother  Percy  brings  the  army  up, 

Falls  on  the  Parliament (I'll  think  of  you, 

My  Hollis !)  say,  we  plotted  long  —  't  is  mine, 
The  scheme  is  mine,  remember !     Say,  I  cursed 
Vane's  folly  in  your  hearing !     If  the  Earl 
Does  rise  to  do  us  shame,  the  fault  shall  lie 
With  you,  Carlisle ! 

Lady  Car.  Nay,  fear  not  me !  but  still 

That 's  a  bright  moment,  sir,  you  throw  away. 
Tear  down  the  veil  and  save  him ! 

Queen.  Go,  Carlisle ! 

Lady  Car.  (I  shall  see  Strafford  —  speak  to  him  :  my 

heart 

Must  never  beat  so,  then !     And  if  I  tell 
The  truth  ?     What 's  gained  by  falsehood  ?     There  they 

stand 

Whose  trade  it  is,  whose  life  it  is !     How  vain 
To  gild  such  rottenness !     Strafford  shall  know, 
Thoroughly  know  them !) 

Queen.  Trust  to  me !  [  To  CARLISLE.]  Carlisle, 

You  seem  inclined,  alone  of  all  the  Court, 
To  serve  poor  Strafford :  this  bold  plan  of  yours 


STRAFFORD.  291 

Merits  much  praise,  and  yet .  .  . 

Lady  Gar.  Time  presses,  madam. 

Queen.  Yet  —  may  it  not  be  something  premature  ? 
Strafford  defends  himself  to-day  —  reserves 
Some  wondrous  effort,  one  may  well  suppose ! 

Lady  Car.  Ay,  Hollis  hints  as  much. 

Cha.  Why  linger  then  ? 

Haste  with  the  scheme  —  my  scheme :  I  shall  be  there 
To  watch  his  look.     Tell  him  I  watch  his  look ! 

Queen.  Stay,  we  '11  precede  you  ! 

Lady  Gar.  At  your  pleasure. 

Cha.  Say  — 

Say,  Vane  is  hardly  ever  at  Whitehall ! 
I  shall  be  there,  remember  ! 

Lady  Gar.  Doubt  me  not. 

Cha.  On  our  return,  Carlisle,  we  wait  you  here ! 

Lady  Gar.  I  '11  bring  his  answer.     Sir,  I  follow  you. 
(Prove  the  King  faithless,  and  I  take  away 

All  Strafford  cares  to  live  for :  let  it  be 

'T  is  the  King's  scheme  ! 

My  Strafford,  I  can  save, 
Nay,  I  have  saved  you,  yet  am  scarce  content, 
Because  my  poor  name  will  not  cross  your  mind. 
Strafford,  how  much  I  am  unworthy  you  !) 


292  STRAFFORD. 


SCENE  II.  —  A  passage  adjoining  Westminster  Hall. 
Many  groups  of  Spectators  of  the  Trial.     Officers  of  the  Court,  etc 

1st  Spec.  More  crowd  than  ever !     Not  know  Hamp- 

den,  man  ? 

That 's  he,  by  Pym,  Pym  that  is  speaking  now. 
No,  truly,  if  you  look  so  high  you  '11  see 
Little  enough  of  either ! 

2d  Spec.  Stay  :  Pym's  arm 

Points  like  a  prophet's  rod. 

3d  Spec.  Ay,  ay,  we  Ve  heard 

Some  pretty  speaking :  yet'  the  Earl  escapes. 

4th  Spec.  I  fear  it:  just  a  foolish  word  or  two 
About  his  children  —  and  we  see,  forsooth. 
Not  England's  foe  in  StrafFord,  but  the  man 
Who,  sick,  half-blind  .  .  . 

2d  Spec.  What 's  that  Pym  's  saying  now 

Which  makes  the  curtains  flutter  ?  look !     A  hand 
Clutches  them.     Ah  !  The  King's  hand  ! 

5th  Spec.  I  had  thought 

Pym  was  not  near  so  tall.     What  said  he,  friend  ? 

2d  Spec.  "  Nor  is  this  way  a  novel  way  of  blood," 
And  the  Earl  turns  as  if  to  ...  look !  look ! 

Many  Spectators.  There ! 

What  ails  him  ?  no  —  he  rallies,  see  —  goes  on 
And  StrafFord  smiles.     Strange  ! 

An  Officer.  Haselrig! 

Many  Spectators.  Friend  ?  Friend  ? 


STRAFFORD.  293 

The  Officer.  Lost,  utterly  lost !  just  when  we  looked 

for  Pym 

To  make  a  stand  against  the  ill  effects 
Of  the  Earl's  speech  !     Is  Haselrig  without  ? 
Pym's  message  is  to  him. 

3d  Spec.  Now,  said  I  true  ? 

Will  the  Earl  leave  them  yet  at  fault  or  no  ? 

1st  Spec.    Never  believe  it,  man!     These   notes   of 
Ruin  the  Earl.  [Vane's 

5th  Spec.          A  brave  end :  not  a  whit 
Less  firm,  less  Pym  all  over.     Then,  the  Trial 
Is  closed.     No  —  Strafford  means  to  speak  again  ? 
An  Officer.  Stand  back,  there ! 

5th  Spec.  Why,  the  Earl  is  coming  hither ! 

•  Before  the  court  breaks  up !     His  brother,  look,  — 
You  'd  say  he  deprecated  some  fierce  act 
In  Stafford's  mind  just  now. 

An  Officer.  Stand  back,  I  say  ! 

2c?   Spec.   Who 's  the   veiled  woman    that    he  talks 

with? 

Many  Spectators.  Hush  — 
The  Earl !  the  Earl ! 

[Enter  STRAFFORD,  SLINGSBY,  and  other  Secretaries,  HOL- 
LIS,  Lady  CARLISLE,  MAXWELL,  BALFOUR,  etc.  STRAF 
FORD  converses  with  Lady  CARLISLE. 

Hoi.  So  near  the  end !     Be  patient  — 

Return ! 

Straf.  \_To  his  Secretaries.]  Here — anywhere  —  or, 
't  is  freshest  here  ! 


294  STRAFFORD. 

To  spend  one's  April  here,  the  blossom-month ! 

Set  it  down  here  ! 

[  They  arrange  a  table,  papers,  etc. 

So,  Pym  can  quail,  can  cower 
Because  I  glance  at  him,  yet  more  's  to  do  ? 
What 's  to  be  answered,  Slingsby  ?     Let  us  end  ! 
[  To  Lady  CARLISLE.]     Child,  I  refuse  his  offer  ;  what 
soe'er 

It  be  !     Too  late  !     Tell  me  no  word  of  him ! 
'T  is  something,  Hollis,  I  assure  you  that  — 
To  stand,  sick  as  you  are,  some  eighteen  days 
Fighting  for  life  and  fame  against  a  pack 
Of  very  curs,  that  lie  thro'  thick  and  thin, 
Eat  flesh  and  bread  by  wholesale,  and  can't  say 
"  Strafford  "  if  it  would  take  my  life  ! 

Lady  Gar.  Be  moved  ! 

Glance  at  the  paper  ! 

Straf.  Already  at  my  heels  ! 

Pym's  faulting  bloodhounds  scent  the  track  again 
Peace,  child  !     Now,  Slingsby ! 

[Messengers  from  LANE  and  other  of  STRAFFORD'S  Counsel 
uvithin  the  Hall  are  coming  and  going  during  the  Scene. 

Straf.  [setting  himself  to  write  and  dictate.']  I  shall 
beat  you,  Hollis ! 

Do  you  know  that  ?     In  spite  of  St.  John's  tricks, 

In  spite  of  Pym  —  your  Pym  who  shrank  from  me  ! 

Eliot  would  have  contrived  it  otherwise. 

[  To  a  Messenger.]  In  truth  ?  This  slip,  tell  Lane,  con 
tains  as  much 


STRAFFORD.  295 

As  I  can  call  to  mind  about  the  matter. 

Eliot  would  have  disdained  .  .  . 

[  Calling  after  the  Messenger.]     And  Radcliffe,  say, 

The  only  person  who  could  answer  Pym, 

Is  safe  in  prison,  just  for  that. 

Well,  well ! 

It  had  not  been  recorded  in  that  case, 
I  baffled  you. 

[  To  Lady  CARLISLE.]    Nay,  child,  why  look  so  grieved  ? 
All 's  gained  without  the  King !     You  saw  Pym  quail  ? 
What  shall  I  do  when  they  acquit  me,  think  you, 
But  tranquilly  resume  my  task  as  though 
Nothing  had  intervened  since  I  proposed 
To  call  that  traitor  to  account !     Such  tricks, 
Trust  me,  shall  not  be  played  a  second  time, 
Say,  even  against  Laud,  with  his  gray  hair  — 
Your  good  work,  Hollis  !     Peace  !  to  make  amends 
You,  Lucy,  shall  be  there  when  I  impeach 
Pym  and  his  fellows. 

Hoi.  Wherefore  not  protest 

Against  our  whole  proceeding,  long  ago  ? 
Why  feel  indignant  now  ?     Why  stand  this  while 
Enduring  patiently  ? 

Straf.  Child,  I  '11  tell  you  — 

You,  and  not  Pym  —  you,  the  slight  graceful  girl 
Tall  for  a  flowering  lily,  and  not  Hollis  — 
Why  I  stood  patient !     I  was  fool  enough 
To  see  the  will  of  England  in  Pym's  will, 
To  fear,  myself  had  wronged  her,  and  to  wait 


296  STRAFFOllD. 

Her  judgment,  —  when,  behold,  in  place  of  it ... 

[  To  a  Messenger  who  whispers.^     Tell  Lane  to  answer 

no  such  question  !     Law,  — 
I  grapple  with  their  law  !     I  'm  here  to  try 
My  actions  by  their  standard,  not  my  own ! 
Their  law  allowed  that  levy :  what 's  the  rest 
To  Pym,  or  Lane,  any  but  God  and  me  ? 

Lady  Gar.  The  King 's  so  weak !    Secure  this  chance ! 

'T  was  Vane, 
Never  forget,  who  furnished  Pym  the  notes  ...  • 

Straf.   Fit,  —  very  fit,  those  precious  notes  of  Vane, 
To  close  the  Trial  worthily !     I  feared 
Some  spice  of  nobleness  might  linger  yet 
And  spoil  the  character  of  all  the  Past. 
Vane  eased  me  .  .  and  I  will  go  back  and  say 
As  much  —  to  Pym,  to  England  !     Follow  me  ! 
I  have  a  word  to  say !     There  !  my  defence 
Is  done ! 

Stay  !  why  be  proud  ?     Why  care  to  own 
My  gladness,  my  surprise  ?  —  Nay,  not  surprise  ! 
Wherefore  insist  upon  the  little  pride 
Of  doing  all  myself,  and  sparing  him 
The  pain  ?     Child,  say  the  triumph  is  my  King's ! 
When  Pym  grew  pale,  and  trembled,  and  sank  down, 
One  image  was  before  me  :  could  I  fail  ? 
Child,  care  not  for  the  Past,  so  indistinct, 
Obscure  —  there  's  nothing  to  forgive  in  it 
'T  is  so  forgotten  !     From  this  day  begins 
A  new  life,  founded  on  a  new  belief 


STRAFFORD.  297 

In  Charles. 

Hoi  In  Charles  ?  Rather,  believe  in  Pym ! 
And  here  he  comes  in  proof !  Appeal  to  Pym ! 
Say  how  unfair  .  .  . 

Straf.  To  Pym  ?     I  would  say  nothing ! 

I  would  not  look  upon  Pym's  face  again. 

Lady  Car.    Stay,  let  me  have  to  think  I  pressed  your 

hand! 

[STRAFFORD  and  his  friends  go  out. 

Enter  HAMPDEN  and  VANE. 

Vane.    O  Hampden,  save  that  great  misguided  man ! 
Plead  Stafford's  cause  with  Pym !     I  have  remarked 
He  moved  no  muscle  when  we  all  declaimed 
Against  him  :  you  had  but  to  breathe  —  he  turned 
Those  kind,  calm  eyes  upon  you. 

[Enter  PYM,  the  Solicitor-General  St.  JOHN,  the  Managers 

of  the  Trial,  FIENNES,  KUDTARD,  etc. 
End.  Horrible ! 

Till  now  all  hearts  were  with  you :  I  withdraw 
For  one.     Too  horrible  !     But  we  mistake 
Your  purpose,  Pym  :  you  cannot  snatch  away 
The  last  spar  from  the  drowning  man. 

Fien.  He  talks 

With  St.  John  of  it  —  see,  how  quietly ! 
[  To  other  Presbyterians.]     You  '11  join  us  ?     Strafford 

may  deserve  the  worst : 

But  this  new  course  is  monstrous.     Vane,  take  heart ! 
This  Bill  of  his  Attainder  shall  not  have 
One  true  man's  hand  to  it. 
13* 


238  STRAFFORD. 

Vane.  Consider,  Pjm ! 

Confront  jour  Bill,  jour  own  Bill :  what  is  it  ? 
You  cannot  catch  the  Earl  on  anj  charge,  — 
No  man  will  saj  the  law  has  hold  of  him 
On  anj  charge ;  and  therefore  jou  resolve 
To  take  the  general  sense  on  his  desert,  • 

As  though  no  law  existed,  and  we  met 
To  found  one.     You  refer  to  Parliament 
To  speak  its  thought  upon  this  hideous  mass 
Of  half-borne  out  assertions,  dubious  hints 
Hereafter  to  be  cleared,  distortions  —  aj, 
And  wild  inventions.     Everj  man  is  saved 
The  task  of  fixing  anj  single  charge 
On  Strafford  :  he  has  but  to  see  in  him 
The  enemj  of  England. 

Pym.  A  right  scruple  ! 

I  have  heard  some  called  England's  enemj 
With  less  consideration. 

Vane.  Pitj  me ! 

Indeed  jou  made  me  think  I  was  jour  friend ! 
I  who  have  murdered  Strafford,  how  remove 
That  memor  j  from  me  ? 

Pym.  I  absolve  jou,  Vane. 

Take  jou  no  care  for  aught  that  jou  have  done  ! 

Vane.     John   Hampden,  not   this    Bill !     Reject  this 

Bill! 

He  staggers  through  the  ordeal :  let  him  go, 
Strew  no  fresh  fire  before  him  !    Plead  for  us ! 
When  Strafford  spoke,  jour  ejes  were  thick  with  tears  ! 


STRAFFORD. 


299 


Hamp.   England  speaks  louder  :  who- are  we,  to  play 
The  generous  pardoner  at  her  expense, 
Magnanimously  waive  advantages, 
And,  if  he  conquer  us,  applaud  his  skill  ? 

Vane.    He  was  your  friend. 
•Pym.  I  have  heard  that  before. 

Fien.  And  England  trusts  you. 

Hamp.  Shame  be  his,  who  turns 

The  opportunity  of  serving  her 
She  trusts  him  with,  to  his  own  mean  account  — 
Who  would  look  nobly  frank  at  her  expense  ! 

Fien.   I  never  thought  it  could  have-  come  to  this. 

Pym.   But  I  have  made  myself  familiar,  Fiennes, 
With   this   one   thought  —  have   walked,  and   sat,   and 

slept, 

This  thought  before  me.     I  have  done  such  things, 
Being  the  chosen  man  that  should  destroy 
The  traitor.     You  have  taken  up  this  thought 
To  play  with,  for  a  gentle  stimulant, 
To  give  a  dignity  to  idler  life 
By  the  dim  prospect  of  emprise  to  come, 
But  ever  with  the  softening,  sure  belief, 
That  all  would  end  some  strange  way  right  at  last. 

Fien.   Had  we  made  out  some  weightier  charge  ! 

Pym.  You  say 

That  these  are  petty  charges :  can  we  come 
To  the  real  charge  at  all  ?     There  he  is  safe 
In  tyranny's  stronghold.     Apostasy 
Js  not  a  crime,  treachery  not  a  crime : 


300 


STRAFFORD. 


The  cheek  burns,  the  blood  tingles,  when  you  speak 
The  words,  but  where  's  the  power  to  take  revenge 
Upon  them  ?     We  must  make  occasion  serve,  — 
The  oversight  here,  pay  for  the  main  sin 
That  mocks  us. 

Rud.  But  this  unexampled  course, 

This  Bill ! 

Pym.         By  this,  we  roll  the  clouds  away 
Of  precedent  and  custom,  and  at  once 
Bid  the  great  beacon-light  God  sets  in  all, 
The  conscience  of  each  bosom,  shine  upon 
The  guilt  of  Strafford  :  each  shall  lay  his  hand 
Upon  his  breast,  and  judge. 

Vane.  I  only  see 

Strafford,  nor  pass  his  corpse  for  all  beyond  ! 

Hud.  and  others.  Forgive  him  I    He  would  join  us,  now 

he  finds 

What  the  King  counts  reward !     The  pardon,  too, 
Should  be  your  own.     Yourself  should  bear  to  Strafford 
The  pardon  of  the  Commons. 

Pym.  Meet  him  ?     Strafford  ? 

Have  we  to  meet  once  more,  then  ?     Be  it  so  ! 
And  yet  —  the  prophecy  seemed  half  fulfilled 
When,  at'  the  Trial,  as  he  gazed,  my  youth, 
Our  friendship,  divers  thoughts  came  back  at  once 
And  left  me,  for  a  time  ...  'T  is  very  sad ! 
To-morrow  we  discuss  the  points  of  law 
With  Lane  —  to-morrow  ? 

Vane.  Not  before  to-morrow  — 


STRAFFORD.  301 

So,  time  enough  !     I  knew  you  would  relent ! 

Pym.    The  next  day,  Haselrig,  you  introduce 
The  Bill  of  his  Attainder.     Pray  for  me  ! 


SCENE  III.  —  Whitehall. 
The  KING. 

Cha.   My  loyal  servant !  —  To  defend  himself 
Thus  irresistibly,  —  withholding  aught 
That  seemed  to  implicate  us  ! 

We  have  done 

Less  gallantly  by  Strafford.     Well,  the  Future 
Must  recompense  the  Past. 

She  tarries  long. 
I  understand  you,  Strafford,  now ! 

The  scheme  — 

Carlisle's  mad  scheme  —  he  '11  sanction  it,  I  fear, 
For  love  of  me.     'T  was  too  precipitate  : 
Before  the  army 's  fairly  on  its  march, 
He  '11  be  at  large  :  no  matter. 

Well,  Carlisle  ? 
Enter  PYM. 

Pym.    Fear  me  not,  sir :  • —  my  mission  is  to  save, 
This  time. 

Cha.          To  break  thus  on  me  !     Unannounced  ! 
Pym.   It  is  of  Strafford  I  would  speak. 
Cha.  No  more 

Of  Strafford  !    I  have  heard  too  much  from  you. 


302  STRAFFORD. 

Pym.   I  spoke,  sir,  for  the  People  :  will  you  hear 
A  word  upon  my  own  account  ? 

Cha.  Of  Stratford  ? 

(So,  turns  the  tide  already  ?    Have  we  tamed 
The  insolent  brawler  ?  —  Strafford's  eloquence 
Is  swift  in  its  effect.)     Lord  Strafford,  sir, 
Has  spoken  for  himself. 

Pym.  Sufficiently. 

I  would  apprise  you  of  the  novel  course 
The  People  take  :  the  Trial  fails. 

Cha.  Yes  —  yes  — 

We  are  aware,  sir :  for  your  part  in  it 
Means  shall  be  found  to  thank  you. 

Pym.  Pray  you,  read 

This  schedule !    I  would  learn  from  your  own  mouth 
—  (It  is  a  matter  much  concerning  me)  — 
Whether,  if  two  Estates  of  us  concede 
The  death  of  Strafford,  on  the  grounds  set  forth 
Within  that  parchment,  you,  sir,  can  resolve 
To  grant  your  own  consent  to  it.     That  Bill 
Is  framed  by  me.     If  you  determine,  sir, 
That  England's  manifested  will  should  guide 
Your  judgment,  ere  another  week  such  will 
Shall  manifest  itself.     If  not,  —  I  cast 
Aside  the  measure. 

Cha.  You  can  hinder,  then, 

The  introduction  of  this  Bill  ? 

Pym.  I  can. 

Cha.    He  is   my  friend,  sir:   I  have  wronged  him 
mark  you, 


STRAFFORD.  303 

Had  I  not  wronged  him,  this  might  be.     You  think 
Because  you  hate  the  Earl  .  .  .  (turn  not  away, 
We  know  you  hate  him)  —  no  one  else  could  love 
Strafford :  but  he  has  saved  me,  some  affirm. 
Think  of  his  pride  !    And,  do  you  know  one  strange, 
One  frightful  thing  ?    We  all  have  used  the  man 
As  though  a  drudge  of  ours,  with  not  a  source 
Of  happy  thoughts  except  in  us  ;  and  yet 
Strafford  has  wife  and  children,  household  cares, 
Just  as  if  we  had  never  been.     Ah,  sir, 
You  are  moved,  even  you,  a  solitary  man 
Wed  to  your  cause  —  to  England  if  you  will! 

Pym.    Yes  —  think,  my  soul  —  to  England  !     Draw 
not  back ! 

Cha.   Prevent  that  Bill,  sir !     All  your  course  seems 

fair 

Till  now.     Why,  in  the  end,  't  is  I  should  sign 
The  warrant  for  his  death !     You  have  said  much 
I  ponder  on ;  I  never  meant,  indeed, 
Strafford  should  serve  me  any  more.     I  take 
The  Commons'  counsel ;  but  this  Bill  is  yours  — 
Nor  worthy  of  its  leader  :  care  not,  sir, 
For  that,  however !    I  will  quite  forget 
You  named  it  to  me.     You  are  satisfied  ? 

Pym.    Listen  to  me,  sir  !    Eliot  laid  his  hand, 
Wasted  and  wliite,  upon  my  forehead  once  ; 
Wentworth  —  he  's  gone  now !  —  has  talked  on,  whole 

nights, 
And  I  beside  him  ;    Hampden  loves  me  :  sir, 


304  STRAFFORD. 

How  can  I  breathe  and  not  wish  England  well, 
And  her  King  well  ? 

Cha.  I  thank  you,  sir  !  who  leave 

That  King  his  servant.     Thanks,  sir  ! 

Pym.  Let  me  speak ! 

—  Who  may  not  speak  again  ;  whose  spirit  yearns 
For  a  cool  night  after  this  weary  day  : 

—  Who  would  not  have  my  soul  turn  sicker  yet 
In  a  new  task,  more  fatal,  more  august, 

More  full  of  England's  utter  weal  or  woe. 

I  thought,  sir,  could  I  find  myself  with  you, 

After  this  Trial,  alone,  as  man  to  man  — 

I  might  say  something,  warn  you,  pray  you,  save  — 

Mark  me,  King  Charles,  save you  ! 

But  God  must  do  it.     Yet  I  warn  you,  sir  — 
(With  Stafford's  faded  eyes  yet  full  on  me) 
As  you  would  have  no  deeper  question  moved 
• —  "  How  long  the  Many  must  endure  the  One," 
Assure  me,  sir,  if  England  give  assent 
To  Strafford's  death,  you  will  not  interfere  ! 

Or 

Cha.    God  forsakes  me.     I  am  in  a  net. 
And  cannot  move.     Let  all  be  as  you  say  ! 

Enter  Lady  CARLISLE. 

Lady  Car.   He  loves  you  —  looking  beautiful  with  joy 
Because  you  sent  me !  he  would  spare  you  all 
The  pain  !  he  never  dreamed  you  would  forsake 
Your  servant  in  the  evil  day  —  nay,  see 


STRAFFORD.  305 

Your  scheme  returned !     That  generous  heart  of  his  ! 
He  needs  it  not  —  or,  needing  it,  disdains 
A  course  that  might  endanger  you  —  you,  sir, 
Whom  Strafford  from  his  inmost  soul  .  .  . 

[Seeing  PYM.]  Well  met ! 

No  fear  for  Strafford !  all  that 's  true  and  brave 
On  your  own  side  shall  help  us  :  we  are  now 
Stronger  than  ever. 

Ha  —  what,  sir,  is  this  ? 
All  is  not  well !     What  parchment  have  you  there  ? 

Pym.   Sir,  much  is  saved  us  both. 

Lady  Car.  This  Bill !     Your  lip 

Whitens  —  you  could  not  read  one  line  to  me 
Your  voice  would  falter  so  ! 

Pym.  No  recreant  yet ! 

The  great  word  went  from  England  to  my  soul, 
And  I  arose.     The  end  is  very  near. 

Lady  Car.   I   am   to   save  him !     All   have   shrunk 

beside  — 

'T  is  only  I  am  left !     Heaven  will  make  strong 
The  hand  now  as  the  heart.     Then  let  both  die  ! 


306  STRAFFORD. 


ACT    V. 

SCENE  I.  —  Whitdatt. 
HOLLIS,  Lady  CARLISLE. 

Hoi.   Tell  the  King,  then !     Come  in  with  me ! 

Lady  Gar.  Not  so  ! 

He  must  not  hear  till  it  succeeds. 

Hoi.  Succeed  ? 

No  dream  was  half  so  vain  —  you  'd  rescue  Strafford 
And  outwit  Pym  !     I  cannot  tell  you  .  .  .  lady, 
The  block  pursues  me,  and  the  hideous  show 
To-day  ...  is  it  to-day  ?     And  all  the  while 
He  's  sure  of  the  King's  pardon.     Think,  I  have 
To  tell  this  man  he  is  to  die.     The  King 
May  rend  his  hair,  for  me  !     I  '11  not  see  StrafFord  ! 

Lady  Car.    Only,  if  I  succeed,  remember Charles 

Has  saved  him  !     He  would  hardly  value  life 
Unless  his  gift.     My  stanch  friends  wait.     Go  in  — 
You  must  go  in  to  Charles ! 

Hoi.  And  all  beside 

Left  StrafFord  long  ago.     The  King  has  signed 
The  warrant  for  his  death :  the  Queen  was  sick 
Of  the  eternal  subject.     For  the  Court,  — 
The  Trial  was  amusing  in  its  way, 
Only  too  much  of  it :  the  Earl  withdrew 
In  time.     But  you,  fragile,  alone,  so  young, 
Amid  rude  mercenaries  —  you  devise 


STRAFFORD.  307 

A  plan  to  save  him  !     Even  though  it  fails, 
"What  shall  reward  you  ? 

Lady  Car.  I  may  go,  you  think, 

To  France  with  him  ?     And  you  reward  me,  friend, 
Who  lived  with  Strafford  even  from  his  youth 
Before  he  set  his  heart  on  state-affairs 
And  they  bent  down  that  noble  brow  of  his. 
I  have  learned  somewhat  of  his  latter  life, 
And  all  the  future  I  shall  know :  but,  Hollis, 
I  ought  to  make  his  youth  my  own  as  well. 
Tell  me, when  he  is  saved  ! 

Hoi.  My  gentle  friend, 

He  should  know  all  and  love  you,  but 't  is  vain  ! 

Lady  Car.   Love  ?  no  —  too  late  now  !     Let  him  love 

the  King ! 

'T  is  the  King's  scheme  !     I  have  your  word,  remember  ! 
We  '11  keep  the  old  delusion  up.     But,  quick ! 
Quick !     Each  of  us  has  work  to  do,  beside  ! 
Go  to  the  King  !     I  hope  —  Hollis  —  I  hope  ! 
Say  nothing  of  my  scheme  !     Hush,  while  we  speak 
Think  where  he  is  !     Now  for  my  gallant  friends  ! 

Hoi.   Where  he  is  ?     Calling  wildly  upon  Charles, 
Guessing  his  fate,  pacing  the  prison-floor. 
Let  the  King  tell  him !     I  '11  not  look  on  Strafford. 


308  STRAFFORD. 


SCENE  II.  —  The  Tower. 

STRAFFORD  sitting  with  his  Children.     They  sing. 

0  bell'  andare 
Per  barca  in  mare, 
Verso  la  sera 
Di  Primavera  I 

William.   The  boat 's  in  the  broad  moonlight  all  this 

while  — 

Verso  la  sera 

Di  Primavera,  I 

And  the  boat  shoots  from  underneath  the  moon 
Into  the  shadowy  distance  ;  only  still 
You  hear  the  dipping  oar  — 

Verso  la  sera, 

And  faint,  and  fainter,  and  then  all 's  quite  gone, 
Music  and  light  and  all,  like  a  lost  star. 

Anne.   But   you   should   sleep,  father :   you  were  to 
sleep. 

Straf.   I  do  sleep,  Anne  ;  or  if  not  —  you  must  know 
There 's  such  a  thing  as  ... 

Wil.  You  're  too  tired  to  sleep  ? 

Straf.   It  will  come  by  and  by  and  all  day  long, 
In  that  old  quiet  house  I  told  you  of: 
We  sleep  safe  there. 

Anne.  Why  not  in  Ireland  ? 

Straf.  No ! 

Too  many  dreams !  —  That  song  's  for  Venice,  William  : 


STE.AFFORD.  309 

You  know  how  Venice  looks  upon  the  map  — 
Isles  that  the  mainland  hardly  can  let  go  ? 

WiL   You  've  been  to  Venice,  father  ? 

Straf.  I  was  young  then. 

WiL   A  city  with  no  King ;  that 's  why  I  like 
Even  a  song  that  comes  from  Venice. 

Straf.  William ! 

WiL   Oh,   I   know   why!      Anne,   do   you   love   the 

King? 
But  I  '11  see  Venice  for  myself  one  day. 

Straf.    See  many  lands,  boy  —  England  last  of  all,  — 
That  way  you  11  love  her  best. 

WiL  Why  do  men  say 

You  sought  to  ruin  her,  then  ? 

Straf.  Ah,  —  they  say  that. 

WiL   Why? 

Straf.  I  suppose  they  must  have  words  to  say, 

As  you  to  sing. 

Anne.  But  they  make  songs  beside  : 

Last  night  I  heard  one,  in  the  street  beneath, 
That  called  you  .  .  .  Oh,  the  names ! 

WiL  Don't  mind  her,  father ! 

They  soon  left  off  when  I  cried  out  to  them. 

Straf.   We  shall  so  soon  be  out  of  it,  my  boy ! 
'T  is  not  worth  while :  who  heeds  a  foolish  song  ? 

WiL   Why,  not  the  King. 

Straf.  Well :  it  has  been  the  fate 

Of  better ;  and  yet,  —  wherefore  not  feel  sure 
That  Time,  who  in  the  twilight  comes  to  mend 


310  STRAFFORD. 

All  the  fantastic  day's  caprice,  consign 
To  the  low  ground  once  more  the  ignoble  Term, 
And  raise  the  Genius  on  his  orb  again,  — 
That  Time  will  do  me  right  ? 

Anne.  (Shall  we  sing,  William  ? 

He  does  not  look  thus  when  we  sing.) 

Straf.  For  Ireland, 

Something  is  done :  too  little,  but  enough 
To  show  what  might  have  been. 

Wil.  (I  have  no  heart 

To  sing  now !     Anne,  how  very  sad  he  looks ! 
Oh,  I  so  hate  the  King  for  all  he  says !) 

Straf.   Forsook  them  !     What,  the  common  songs  will 

run 

That  I  forsook  the  People  ?    Nothing  more  ? 
Ay,  Fame,  the  busy  scribe,  will  pause,  no  doubt, 
Turning  a  deaf  ear  to  her  thousand  slaves 
Noisy  to  be  enrolled,  —  will  register 
The  curious  glosses,  subtle  notices, 
Ingenious  clearings-up  one  fain  would  see 
Beside  that  plain  inscription  of  The  Name  — 
The  Patriot  Pym,  or  the  Apostate  Strafford ! 

[  The  children  resume  their  song  timidly,  but  break  off. 
Enter  HOLLIS  and  an  Attendant. 

Straf.    No,  —  Hollis  ?   in  good  time  !  —  Who  is  he  ? 

Hoi  One 

That  must  be  present. 

Straf.  Ah  —  I  understand. 

They  will  not  let  me  see  poor  Laud  alone. 


STRAFFORD.  311 

How  politic  !    They  'd  use  me  by  degrees 

To  solitude  :  and  just  as  you  came  in 

I  was  solicitous  what  life  to  lead 

When  Strafford  's  "  not  so  much  as  Constable 

In  the  King's  service."     Is  there  any  means 

To  keep  one's  self  awake  ?    What  would  you  do 

After  this  bustle,  Hollis,  in  my  place  ? 

Hoi    Strafford! 

Straf.  Observe,  not  but  that  Pym  and  you 

Will  find  me  news  enough  —  news  I  shall  hear 
Under  a  quince-tree  by  a  fish-pond  side 
At  Wentworth.     Garrard  must  be  re-engaged 
My  newsman.     Or,  a  better  project  now  — 
What  if  when  all 's  consummated,  and  the  Saints 
Reignj  and  the  Senate's  work  goes  swimmingly,  — 
What  if  I  venture  up,  some  day,  unseen, 
To  saunter  through  the  Town,  notice  how  Pym, 
Your  Tribune,  likes  Whitehall,  drop  quietly 
Into  a  tavern,  hear  a  point  discussed, 
As,  whether  Strafford's  name  were  John  or  James  — 
And  be  myself  appealed  to  —  I,  who  shall 
Myself  have  near  forgotten ! 

Hoi.  I  would  speak  .  . . 

Straf.   Then  you  shall  speak,  —  not  now:  I  want  just 

now, 

To  hear  the  sound  of  my  own  tongue.     This  place 
Is  full  of  ghosts. 

Hoi.  Nay,  you  must  hear  me,  Strafford ! 

Straf.   Oh,  readily !    Only,  one  rare  thing  more,  — 


312  STRAFFORD. 

The  minister !    Who  will  advise  the  King, 

Turn  his  Sejanus,  Richelieu,  and  what  not, 

And  yet  have  health  —  children,  for  aught  I  know  — 

My  patient  pair  of  traitors  !     Ah,  —  but,  William  — 

Does  not  his  cheek  grow  thin  ? 

Wil.  'T  is  you  look  thin, 

Father ! 

Straf.     A  scamper  o'er  the  breezy  wolds 
Sets  all  to-rights. 

Hoi.  You  cannot  sure  forget 

A  prison-roof  is  o'er  you,  Strafford  ? 

Straf.  No, 

Why,  no.     I  would  not  touch  on  that,  the  first. 
I  left  you  that.     Well,  Hollis  ?     Say  at  once, 
The  King  can  find  no  time  to  set  me  free ! 
A  mask  at  Theobalds  ? 

Hoi.  Hold  :  no  such  affair 

Detains  him. 

Straf.  True :  what  needs  so  great  a  matter  ? 

The  Queen's  lip  may  be  sore.    Well :  when  he  pleases,  — 
Only,  I  want  the  air :  it  vexes  flesh 
To  be  pent  up  so  long. 

Hoi.  The  King  —  I  bear 

His  message,  Strafford :  pray  you,  let  me  speak  ! 

Straf.   Go,  William  !    Anne,  try  o'er  your  song  again ! 

[The  children  retire. 

They  shall  be  loyal,  friend,  at  all  events. 
I  know  your  message :  you  have  nothing  new 
To  tell  me :  from  the  first  I  guessed  as  much. 


STRAFFORD.  313 

I  know,  instead  of  coming  here  himself 
Leading  me  forth  in  public  by  the  hand, 
The  King  prefers  to  leave  the  door  ajar 
As  though  I  were  escaping  —  bids  me  trudge 
While  the  mob  gapes  upon  some  show  prepared 
On  the  other  side  of  the  river  !     Give  at  once 
His  order  of  release !     I  've  heard,  as  well, 
Of  certain  poor  manoeuvrings  to  avoid 
The  granting  pardon  at  his  proper  risk ; 
First,  he  must  prattle  somewhat  to  the  Lords, 
Must  talk  a  trifle  with  the  Commons  first, 
Be  grieved  I  should  abuse  his  confidence, 
And   far   from   blaming    them,   and  .  .  .  Where  's   the 
order  ? 

Hoi.   Spare  me ! 

Straf.  Why,  he  'd  not  have  me  steal  away  ? 

With  an  old  doublet  and  a  steeple  hat 
Like  Prynne's  ?     Be  smuggled  into  France,  perhaps  ? 
Hollis,  't  is  for  my  children  !     'T  was  for  them 
I  first  consented  to  stand  day  by  day 
And  give  your  Puritans  the  best  of  words, 
Be  patient,  speak  when  called  upon,  observe 
Their  rules,  and  not  return  them  prompt  their  lie ! 
What 's  in  that  boy  of  mine  that  he  should  prove 
Son  to  a  prison-breaker  ?     I  shall  stay 
And   he  if  stay   with   me.      Charles   should   know   as 

much  — 

He  too  has  children  ! 
[  Turning  to  HOLLIS'S  companion."^     Sir,  you  feel  for  me  ! 

14 


314  STRAFFORD. 

No  need  to  hide  that  face !     Though  it  have  looked 
Upon  me  from  the  judgment-seat ...  I  know 
Strangely,  that  somewhere  it  has  looked  on  me  ... 
Your  coining  has  my  pardon,  nay,  my  thanks. 
For  there  is  One  who  comes  not. 

Hoi.  Whom  forgive, 

As  one  to  die ! 

Straf.  True,  all  die,  and  all  need 

Forgiveness  :  I  forgive  him  from  my  soul. 

Hoi.   'T  is   a   world's   wonder :    Strafford,   you   must 
die! 

Straf.    Sir,  if  your  errand  is  to  set  me  free 
This  heartless  jest  mars  much.     Ha  !     Tears  in  truth  ? 
We  '11  end  this  !     See  this  paper,  warm  —  feel  —  warm 
With  lying  next  my  heart !     Whose  hand  is  there  ? 
Whose  promise  ?     Read,  and  loud  for  God  to  hear  ! 
"  Strafford  shall  take  no  hurt "  —  read  it,  I  say ! 
"  In  person,  honor,  nor  estate  "  — 

Hoi.  The  King  .  .  . 

Straf.  I  could  unking  him  by  a  breath  !     You  sit 
Where  London  sat,  who  came  to  prophesy 
The  certain  end,  and  offer  me  Pym's  grace 
If  I  'd  renounce  the  King :  and  I  stood  firm 
On  the  King's  faith.     The  King  who  lives  .  .  . 

Hoi.  To  sign 

The  warrant  for  your  death. 

Straf.  "  Put  not  your  trust 

In  princes,  neither  in  the  sons  of  men, 
In  whom  is  no  salvation !  " 


STRAFFORD.  315 

Hol  Trust  in  God. 

The  scaffold  is  prepared  :  they  wait  for  you  : 
He  has  consented.     Cast  the  earth  behind  ! 

Cha.  You  would  not  see  me,  Strafford,  at  your  foot ! 
It  was  wrung  from  me  !     Only  curse  me  not ! 

Hol.  \_To  STRAFFORD.]  As  you  hope  grace  and  par 
don  in  your  need, 
Be  merciful  to  this  most  wretched  man ! 

[Voices from  within. 
Verso  la  sera 
Di  Primavera. 

Straf.  You  '11  be  good  to  those  children,  sir  ?     I  know 
You  '11  not  believe  her,  even  should  the  Queen 
Think  they  take  after  one  they  rarely  saw. 
I  had  intended  that  my  son  should  live 
A  stranger  to  these  matters :  but  you  are 
So  utterly  deprived  of  friends  !     He  too 
Must  serve  you  —  will  you  not  be  good  to  him  ? 
Or,  stay,  sir,  do  not  promise  —  do  not  swear  ! 
You,  Hollis  —  do  the  best  you  can  for  me  ! 
I  Ve  not  a  soul  to  trust  to  :  Wandesford  's  dead, 
And  you  Ve  got  Radcliffe  safe,  Laud's  turn  comes  next  : 
I  Ve  found  small  time  of  late  for  my  affairs, 
But  I  trust  any  of  you,  Pym  himself — 
No  one  could  hurt  them  :  there  's  an  infant,  too — 
These  tedious  cares !     Your  Majesty  could  spare  them ! 
Nay  —  pardon  me,  my  King  !     I  had  forgotten 
Your  education,  trials,  much  temptation, 
Some  weakness :  there  escaped  a  peevish  word  — 


316  STRAFFORD. 

'T  is  gone  :  I  bless  you  at  the  last.  You  know 
All 's  between  you  and  me :  what  has  the  world 
To  do  with  it  ?  Farewell ! 

Cha.  [at  the  door.']  Balfour !  Balfour ! 

Enter  BALFOUR. 

The  Parliament !  —  go  to  them  :  I  grant  all 
Demands.     Their  sittings  shall  be  permanent : 
Tell  them  to  keep  their  money  if  they  will  : 
I  '11  come  to  them  for  every  coat  I  wear 
And  every  crust  I  eat :  only  I  choose 
To  pardon  Strafford.     As  the  Queen  shall  choose ! 
—  You  never  heard  the  People  howl  for  blood, 
Beside ! 

Bed.       Your  Majesty  may  hear  them  now  : 
The  walls  can  hardly  keep  their  murmurs  out : 
Please  you  retire ! 

Cha.  Take  all  the  troops,  Balfour  ! 

Bal.    There  are  some  hundfed  thousand  of  the  crowd. 

Cha.    Come  with  me,  Strafford  !     You  '11  not  fear,  at 
least ! 

Straf.    Balfour,  say  nothing  to  the  world  of  this  ! 
I  charge  you,  as  a  dying  man,  forget 
You  gazed  upon  this  agony  of  one  .  .  . 
Of  one  .  .  or  if .  .  why  you  may  say,  Balfour, 
The  King  was  sorry :  't  is  no  shame  in  him : 
Yes,  you  may  say  he  even  wept,  Balfour, 
And  that  I  walked  the  lighter  to  the  block 
Because  of  it.     I  shall  walk  lightly,  sir ! 
Earth  fades,  Heaven  breaks  on  me :  I  shall  stand  next 


STRAFFORD.  317 

Before  God's  throne  :  the  moment 's  close  at  hand 

When  Man  the  first,  last  time,  has  leave  to  lay 

His  whole  heart  bare  before  its  Maker,  leave 

To  clear  up  the  long  error  of  a  life 

And  choose  one  happiness  for  evermore. 

With  all  mortality  about  me,  Charles, 

The  sudden  wreck,  the  dregs  of  violent  death  — 

What  if,  despite  the  opening  angel-song, 

There  penetrate  one  prayer  for  you  ?     Be  saved 

Through  me  !    Bear  witness,  no  one  could  prevent 

My  death  !    Lead  on  !  ere  he  awake  —  best,  now ! 

All  must  be  ready :  did  you  say,  Balfour, 

The  crowd  began  to  murmur  ?     They  '11  be  kept 

Too  late  for  sermon  at  St.  Antholin's ! 

Now  !   but  tread  softly  —  children  are  at  play 

In  the  next  room.     Precede  !    I  follow  — 

Enter  Lady  CARLISLE,  with  many  Attendants. 

Lady  Car.  Me! 

Follow  me,  Strafford,  and  be  saved  !    The  King  ? 
[  To  the  KING.]    Well  —  as  you  ordered,  they  are  ranged 

without, 

The  convoy  .  .  [seeing  the  KING'S  state.'] 
[  To    STRAFFORD.]      You   know   all,   then !      Why,    I 

thought 

It  looked  best  that  the  King  should  save  you,  Charles 
Alone ;  't  is  shame  that  you  should  owe  me  aught. 
Or,  no,  not  shame  !    Strafford,  you  '11  not  feel  shame 
At  being  saved  by  me? 

Hoi.  All  true  !    O  Strafford, 


318  STRAFFORD. 

She  saves  you  !  all  her  deed !  this  lady's  deed ! 
And  is  the  boat  in  readiness  ?    You,  friend, 
Are  Billingsley,  no  doubt !    Speak  to  her,  Strafford  ! 
See  how  she  trembles,  waiting  for  your  voice  ! 
The  world 's  to  learn  its  bravest  story  yet ! 

Lady  Gar.   Talk  afterward!    Long  nights  in  France 
enough,  . 

To  sit  beneath  the  vines  and  talk  of  home ! 

Straf.   You  love  me,  child  !     Ah,  Strafford  can  be  loved 
As  well  as  Vane  !     I  could  escape,  then  ? 

Lady  Car.  Haste! 

Advance  the  torches,  Bryan ! 

Straf.  I  will  die. 

They  call  me  proud :  but  England  had  no  right, 
When  she  encountered  me  —  her  strength  to  mine  — 
To  find  the  chosen  foe  a  craven.     Girl, 
I  fought  her  to  the  utterance,  I  fell, 
I  am  hers  now,  and  I  will  die.     Beside, 
The  lookers-on !     Eliot  is  all  about 
This  place  with  his  most  uncomplaining  brow. 

Lady  Car.   Strafford! 

Straf.  I  think  if  you  could  know  how  much 

I  love  you,  you  would  be  repaid,  my  friend ! 

Lady  Car.   Then,  for  my  sake ! 

Straf.  Even  for  your  sweet  sake, 

I  stay. 

Hoi.    For  their  sake  ! 

Straf.  To  bequeath  a  stain  ? 

Leave  me  !     Girl,  humor  me  and  let  me  die  ! 


STRAFFORD.  319 

Lady  Car.    Bid  him  escape  —  wake,  King  !     Bid  him 
escape ! 

Straf.   True,  I  will  go  !     Die,  and  forsake  the  King  ? 
I  '11  not  draw  back  from  the  last  service. 

Lady  Car.    Strafford! 

Straf.  And,  after  all,  what  is  disgrace  to  me  ? 

Let  us  come,  child !     That  it  should  end  this  way ! 
Lead  then !  but  I  feel  strangely :  it  was  not 
To  end  this  way. 

Lady  Car.  Lean  —  lean  on  me  ! 

Straf.  My  King ! 

Oh,  had  he  trusted  me  —  his  friend  of  friends  !  — 

Lady  Car.    I  can  support  him,  Hollis  ! 

Straf.  Not  this  way  I 

This  gate  —  I  dreamed  of  it,  this  very  gate. 

Lady  Gar.   It  opens  on  the  river  :  our  good  boat 
Is  moored  below,  our  friends  are  there. 

Straf.  The  same. 

Only  with  something  ominous  and  dark, 
Fatal,  inevitable. 

Lady  Car.  Strafford  !     Strafford  ! 

Straf.   Not  by  this  gate  !     I  feel  what  will  be  there ! 
I  dreamed  of  it,  I  tell  you  :  touch  it  not ! 

Lady  Car.  To  save  the  King,  —  Strafford,  to  save  the 
King ! 

\As  STRAFFORD  opens  the  door,  PTM  is  discovered  with 
HAMPDEN,  VANE,  etc.  STRAFFORD  falls  back:  PYM 
follows  slowly  and  confronts  him. 

Pym.    Have  I  done  well  ?     Speak,  England !     Whose 
sole  sake 


320  STKAFFORD. 

I  still  have  labored  for,  with  disregard 

To  rny  own  heart,  —  for  whom  my  youth  was  made 

Barren,  my  Future  waste,  to  offer  up 

Her  sacrifice  —  this  man,  this  Wcntworth  here  — 

Who  walked  in  youth  with  me,  loved  me,  it  may  be, 

And  whom,  for  his  forsaking  England's  cause, 

I  hunted  by  all  means  (trusting  that  she 

Would  sanctify  all  means)  even  to  the  block 

Which  waits  for  him.     And  saying  this,  I  feel 

No  bitterer  pang  than  first  I  felt,  the  hour 

I  swore  that  Wentworth  might  leave  us,  but  I 

Would  never  leave  him :  I  do  leave  him  now. 

I  render  up  my  charge  (be  witness,  God !) 

To  England  who  imposed  it.     I  have  done 

Her  bidding  —  poorly,  wrongly,  —  it  may  be, 

With  ill  effects  —  for  I  am  weak,  a  man  : 

Still,  I  have  done  my  best,  my  human  best, 

Not  faltering  for  a  moment.     It  is  done. 

And  this  said,  if  I  say  .  .  .  yes,  I  will  say 

I  never  loved  but  one  man  —  David  not 

More  Jonathan !     Even  thus,  I  love  him  now  : 

And  look  for  my  chief  portion  in  that  world 

Where  great  hearts  led  astray  are  turned  again, 

(Soon  it  may  be,  and,  certes,  will  be  soon  : 

My  mission  over,  I  shall  not  live  long.)  — 

Ay,  here  I  know  I  talk  —  I  dare  and  must, 

Of  England,  and  her  great  reward,  as  all 

I  look  for  there ;  but  in  my  inmost  heart, 

Believe,  I  think  of  stealing  quite  away 


STRAFFORD.  321 

To  walk  once  more  with  Wentworth  —  my  youth's  friend 
Purged  from  all  error,  gloriously  renewed, 
And  Eliot  shall  not  blame  us.     Then  indeed  .  .  . 
This  is  no  meeting,  Wentworth !     Tears  increase 
Too  hot.     A  thin  mist  —  is  it  blood  ?  —  enwraps 
The  face  I  loved  once.     Then,  the  meeting  be ! 

Straf.   I  have  loved  England  too ;  we  11  meet  then, 

Pym! 

As  well  die  now !     Youth  is  the  only  time 
To  think  and  to  decide  on  a  great  course : 
Manhood  with  action  follows  ;  but 't  is  dreary 
To  have  to  alter  our  whole  life  in  age  — 
The  time  past,  the  strength  gone !  as  well  die  now. 
When  we  meet,  Pym,  I  'd  be  set  right  —  not  now  ! 
Best  die.     Then  if  there 's  any  fault,  it  too 
Dies,  smothered  up.     Poor  gray  old  little  Laud 
May  dream  his  dream  out  of  a  perfect  Church 
In  some  blind  corner.     And  there  's  no  one  left. 
I  trust  the  King  now  wholly  to  you,  Pym ! 
And  yet,  I  know  not !     I  shall  not  be  there  ! 
Friends  fail  —  if  he  have  any  !     And  he  's  weak, 
And  loves  the  Queen,  and  .  .  O,  my  fate  is  nothing  — 
Nothing  !     But  not  that  awful  head  —  not  that ! 
Pym,  ,you  help  England  !     I,  that  am  to  die, 
What  I  must  see  !  't  is  here  —  all  here  !     My  God  ! 
Let  me  but  gasp  out,  in  one  word  of  fire, 
How  Thou  wilt  plague  him,  satiating  Hell ! 
What  ?     England  that  you  help,  become  through  you 
A  green  and  putrefying  charnel,  left 


322  STRAFFORD. 

Our  children  .  .  .  some  of  us  have  children,  Pym  — 
Some  who,  without  that,  still  must  ever  wear 
A  darkened  brow,  an  over-serious  look, 
And  never  properly  be  young !     No  word  ? 
You  will  not  say  a  word  —  to  me  —  to  Him  ? 

Pym.   England,  —  I  am  thine  own !     Dost  thou  exact 
That  service  ?    I  obey  thee  to  the  end. 


CHRISTMAS-EVE  AND  EASTER-DAY. 


FLORENCE,   1850. 


CHRISTMAS-EVE. 


I. 

OUT  of  the  little  chapel  I  flung, 

Into  the  fresh  night-air  again. 

Five  minutes  I  waited,  held  my  tongue 

In  the  doorway,  to  escape  the  rain 

That  drove  in  gusts  down  the  common's  centre, 

At  the  edge  of  which  the  chapel  stands, 

Before  I  plucked  up  heart  to  enter. 

Heaven  knows  how  many  sorts  of  hands 

Reached  past  me,  groping  for  the  latch 

Of  the  inner  door  that  hung  on  catch, 

More  obstinate  the  more  they  fumbled, 

Till,  giving  way  at  last  with  a  scold 

Of  the  crazy  hinge,  in  squeezed  or  tumbled 

One  sheep  more  to  the  rest  in  fold, 

And  left  me  irresolute,  standing  sentry 

In  the  sheepfold's  lath-and-plaster  entry, 

Four  feet  long  by  two  feet  wide, 

Partitioned  off  from  the  vast  inside  — 

I  blocked  up  half  of  it  at  least. 

No  remedy ;  the  rain  kept  driving. 

They  eyed  me  much  as  some  wild  beast, 


326  CHRISTMAS-EVE. 

That  congregation,  still  arriving, 

Some  of  them  by  the  main  road,  white 

A  long  way  past  me  into  the  night, 

Skirting  the  common,  then  diverging ; 

Not  a  few  suddenly  emerging 

From  the  common's  self  thro'  the  paling-gaps, 

—  They  house  in  the  gravel-pits  perhaps, 

Where  the  road  stops  short  with  its  safeguard  border 

Of  lamps,  as  tired  of  such  disorder  ;  — 

But  the  most  turned  in  yet  more  abruptly 

From  a  certain  squalid  knot  of  alleys, 

Where  the  town's  bad  blood  once  slept  corruptly, 

Which  now  the  little  chapel  rallies 

And  leads  into  day  again,  —  its  priestliness 

Lending  itself  to  hide  their  beastliness 

So  cleverly  (thanks  in  part  to  the  mason), 

And  putting  so  cheery  a  whitewashed  face  on 

Those  neophytes  too  much  in  lack  of  it, 

That,  where  you  cross  the  common  as  I  did, 

And  meet  the  party  thus  presided, 

"  Mount  Zion  "  with  Love-lane  at  the  back  of  it, 

They  front  you  as  little  disconcerted 

As,  bound  for  the  hills,  her  fate  averted, 

And  her  wicked  people  made  to  mind  him, 

Lot  might  have  marched  with  Gomorrah  behind  him, 

ii. 

Well,  from  the  road,  the  lanes  or  the  common, 
In  came  the  flock :  the  fat  weary  woman. 


CHRISTMAS-EVE.  327 

Panting  and  bewildered,  down-clapping 

Her  umbrella  with  a  mighty  report, 

Grounded  it  by  me,  wry  and  flapping, 

A  wreck  of  whalebones  ;  then,  with  a  snort, 

Like  a  startled  horse,  at  the  interloper 

(Who  humbly  knew  himself  improper, 

But  could  not  shrink  up  small  enough) 

—  Round  to  the  door,  and  in,  —  the  gruff 

Hinge's  invariable  scold 

Making  my  very  blood  run  cold. 

Prompt  in  the  wake  of  her,  up-pattered 

On  broken  clogs,  the  many-tattered 

Little  old-faced,  peaking,  sister-turned-mother 

Of  the  sickly  babe  she  tried  to  smother 

Somehow  up,  with  its  spotted  face, 

From  the  cold,  on  her  breast,  the  one  warm  place ; 

She  too  must  stop,  wring  the  poor  ends  dry 

Of  a  draggled  shawl,  and  add  thereby 

Her  tribute  to  the  door-mat,  sopping 

Already  from  my  own  clothes'  dropping, 

Which  yet  she  seemed  to  grudge  I  should  stand  on ; 

Then,  stooping  down  to  take  off  her  pattens, 

She  bore  them  defiantly,  in  each  hand  one, 

Planted  together  before  her  breast 

And  its  babe,  as  good  as  a  lance  in  rest. 

Close  on  her  heels,  the  dingy  satins 

Of  a  female  something,  past  me  flitted, 

With  lips  as  much  too  white,  as  a  streak 

Lay  far  too  red  on  each  hollow  cheek  ; 


328  CHRISTMAS-EVE. 

And  it  seemed  the  very  door-hinge  pitied 

All  that  was  left  of  a  woman  once, 

Holding  at  least  its  tongue  for  the  nonce. 

Then  a  tall  yellow  man,  like  the  Penitent  Thief, 

With  his  jaw  bound  up  in  a  handkerchief, 

And  eyelids  screwed  together  tight, 

Led  himself  in  by  some  inner  light. 

And,  except  from  him,  from  each  that  entered, 

I  got  the  same  interrogation  — 

"  What,  you,  the  alien,  you  have  ventured 

To  take  with  us,  the  elect,  your  station  ? 

A  carer  for  none  of  it,  a  Gallio  ?  "  — 

Thus,  plain  as  print,  I  read  the  glance 

At  a  common  prey,  in  each  countenance 

As  of  huntsmen  giving  his  hounds  the  tallyho. 

And,  when  the  door's  cry  drowned  their  wonder, 

The  draught,  it  always  sent  iir  shutting, 

Made  the  flame  of  the  single  tallow  candle 

In  the  cracked  square  lantern  I  stood  under, 

Shoot  its  blue  lip  at.  me,  rebutting, 

As  it  were,  the  luckless  cause  of  scandal : 

I  verily  fancied  the  zealous  light, 

(In  the  chapel's  secret,  too  !)  for  spite 

Would  shudder  itself  clean  off  the  wick, 

With  the  airs  of  a  Saint  John's  Candlestick. 

There  was  no  standing  it  much  longer. 

"  Good  folks,"  thought  I,  as  resolve  grew  stronger, 

"  This  way  you  perform  the  Grand-Inquisitor, 

When  the  weather  sends  you  a  chance  visitor  ? 


CHRISTMAS-EVE.  329 

You  are  the  men,  and  wisdom  shall  die  with  you, 

And  none  of  the  old  Seven  Churches  vie  with  you  ! 

But  still,  despite  the  pretty  perfection 

To  which  you  carry  your  trick  of  exclusiveness, 

And,  taking  God's  word  under  wise  protection, 

Correct  its  tendency  to  diffusiveness, 

And  bid  one  reach  it  over  hot  ploughshares,  — 

Still,  as  I  say,  though  you  've  found  salvation, 

If  I  should  choose  to  cry,  as  now,  f  Shares ' !  — 

See  if  the  best  of  you  bars  me  my  ration  ! 

I  prefer,  if  you  please,  for  my  expounder 

Of  the  laws  of  the  feast,  the  feast's  own  Founder ; 

Mine's  the  same  right  with  your  poorest  and  sickliest, 

Supposing  I  don  the  marriage-vestimenf : 

So,  shut  your  mouth  and  open  your  Testament, 

And  carve  me  my  portion  at  your  quickliest ! " 

Accordingly,  as  a  shoemaker's  lad 

With  wizened  face  in  want  of  soap, 

And  wet  apron  wound  round  his  waist  like  a  rope, 

(After  stopping  outside,  for  his  cough  was  bad, 

To  get  the  fit  over,  poor  gentle  creature, 

And  so  avoid  disturbing  the  preacher) 

—  Passed  in,  I  sent  my  elbow  spikewise 
At  the  shutting  door,  and  entered  likewise, 
Received  the  hinge's  accustomed  greeting, 
And  crossed  the  threshold's  magic  pentacle, 
And  found  myself  in  full  conventicle, 

—  To  wit,  in  Zion  Chapel  Meeting, 
On  the  Christmas-Eve  of  'Forty-nine, 


330  CHRISTMAS-EVE. 

"Which,  calling  its  flock  to  their  special  clover, 
Found  all  assembled  and  one  sheep  over, 
Whose  lot,  as  the  weather  pleased,  was  mine. 

in. 

I  very  soon  had  enough  of  it. 

The  hot  smell  and  the  human  noises, 

And  my  neighbor's  coat,  the  greasy  cuff  of  it, 

Were  a  pebble-stone  that  a  child's  hand  poises, 

Compared  with  the  pig-of-lead-like  pressure 

Of  the  preaching-man's  immense  stupidity, 

As  he  poured  his  doctrine  forth,  full  measure, 

To  meet  his  audience's  avidity. 

You  needed  not  the  wit  of  the  Sibyl 

To  guess  the  cause  of  it  all,  in  a  twinkling : 

No  sooner  got  our  friend  an  inkling 

Of  treasure  hid  in  the  Holy  Bible, 

(Whene'er  't  was  that  the  thought  first  struck  him, 

How  death,  at  unawares,  might  duck  him 

Deeper  than  the  grave,  and  quench 

The  gin-shop's  light  in  Hell's  grim  drench) 

Than  he  handled  it  so,  in  fine  irreverence, 

As  to  hug  the  book  of  books  to  pieces  : 

And,  a  patchwork  of  chapters  and  texts  in  severance, 

Not  improved  by  the  private  dog's-ears  and  creases, 

Having  clothed  his  own  soul  with,  he  'd^  fain  see  equipt 

yours,  — 

So,  tossed  you  again  your  Holy  Scriptures. 
And  you  picked  them  up,  in  a  sense,  no  doubt : 


CHRISTMAS-EYE.  331 

Nay,  had  but  a  single  face  of  my  neighbors 

Appeared  to  suspect  that  the  preacher's  labors 

Were  help  which  the  world  could  be  saved  without, 

'T  is  odds  but  I  might  have  borne  in  quiet 

A  qualm  or  two  at  my  spiritual  diet, 

Or  (who  can  tell  ?)  perchance  even  mustered 

Somewhat  to  urge  in  behalf  of  the  sermon  : 

But  the  flock  sat  on,  divinely  flustered, 

Sniffing,  methought,  its  dew  of  Hermon 

"With  such  content  in  every  snuffle, 

As  the  devil  inside  us  loves  to  ruffle. 

My  old  fat  woman  purred  with  pleasure, 

And  thumb  round  thumb  went  twirling  faster, 

While  she,  to  his  periods  keeping  measure, 

Maternally  devoured  the  pastor. 

The  man  with  the  handkerchief,  untied  it, 

Showed  us  a  horrible  wen  inside  it, 

Gave  his  eyelids  yet  another  screwing, 

And  rocked  himself  as  the  woman  was  doing. 

The  shoemaker's  lad,  discreetly  choking, 

Kept  down  his  cough.     'T  was  too  provoking  ! 

My  gorge  rose  at  the  nonsense  and  stuff  of  it, 

So,  saying,  like  Eve  when  she  plucked  the  apple, 

"  I  wanted  a  taste,  and  now  there 's  enough  of  it," 

I  flung  out  of  the  little  chapel. 

IV. 

There  was  a  lull  in  the  rain,  a  lull 
In  the  wind  too ;  the  moon  was  risen, 


332  CHRISTMAS-EVE. 

And  would  have  shone  out  pure  and  full, 

But  for  the  ramparted  cloud-prison, 

Block  on  block  built  up  in  the  West, 

For  what  purpose  the  wind  knows  best, 

Who  changes  his  mind  continually. 

And  the  empty  other  half  of  the  sky 

Seemed  in  its  silence  as  if  it  knew 

What,  any  moment,  might  look  through 

A  chance-gap  in  that  fortress  massy :  — 

Through  its  fissures  you  got  hints 

Of  the  flying  moon,  by  the  shifting  tints, 

Now,  a  dull  lion-color,  now,  brassy 

Burning  to  yellow,  and  whitest  yellow, 

Like  furnace-smoke  just  ere  the  flames  bellow, 

All  a-simmer  with  intense  strain 

To  let  her  through,  —  then  blank  again, 

At  the  hope  of  her  appearance  failing. 

Just  by  the  chapel,  a  break  in  the  railing 

Shows  a  narrow  path  directly  across  ; 

'T  is  ever  dry  walking  there,  on  the  moss  — 

Besides,  you  go  gently  all  the  way  uphill. 

I  stooped  under  and  soon  felt  better ; 

My  head  grew  light,  my  limbs  more  supple, 

As  I  walked  on,  glad  to  have  slipt  the  fetter. 

My  mind  was  full  of  the  scene  I  had  left, 

That  placid  flock,  that  pastor  vociferant, 

—  How  this  outside  was  pure  and  different ! 

The  sermon,  now  —  what  a  mingled  weft 

Of  good  and  ill !  were  either  less, 


CHRISTMAS-EVE.  333 

Its  fellow  had  colored  the  whole  distinctly ; 

But  alas  for  the  excellent  earnestness, 

And  the  truths,  quite  true  if  stated  succinctly, 

But  as  surely  false,  in  their  quaint  presentment, 

However  to  pastor  and  flock's  contentment ! 

Say  rather,  such  truths  looked  false  to  your  eyes, 

With  his  provings  and  parallels  twisted  and  twined, 

Till  how  could  you  know  them,  grown  double  their  size 

In  the  natural  fog  of  the  good  man's  mind, 

Like  yonder  spots  of  our  roadside  lamps 

Haloed  about  with  the  common's  damps  ? 

Truth  remains  true,  the  fault 's  in  the  prover ; 

The  zeal  was  good,  and  the  aspiration ; 

And  yet,  and  yet,  yet,  fifty  times  over, 

Pharaoh  received  no  demonstration 

By  his  Baker's  dream  of  Baskets  Three, 

Of  the  doctrine  of  the  Trinity,  — 

Although,  as  our  preacher  thus  embellished  it, 

Apparently  his  hearers  relished  it 

With  so  unfeigned  a  gust  —  who  knows  if 

They  did  not  prefer  our  friend  to  Joseph  ? 

But  so  it  is  everywhere,  one  way  with  all  of  them ! 

These  people  have  really  felt,  no  doubt, 

A  something,  the  motion  they  style  the  Call  of  them ; 

And  this  is  their  method  of  bringing  about, 

By  a  mechanism  of  words  and  tones, 

(So  many  texts  in  so  many  groans) 

A  sort  of  reviving  or  reproducing, 

More  or  less  perfectly,  (who  can  tell  ?  — ) 


334  CHRISTMAS-EVE. 

Of  the  mood  itself,  that  strengthens  by  using ; 

And  how  it  happens,  I  understand  well. 

A  tune  was  born  in  my  head  last  week, 

Out  of  the  thump-thump  and  shriek-shriek 

Of  the  train,  as  I  came  by  it,  up  from  Manchester ; 

And  when,  next  week,  I  take  it  back  again, 

My  head  will  sing  to  the  engine's  clack  again, 

While  it  only  makes  my  neighbor's  haunches  stir, 

—  Finding  no  dormant  musical  sprout 

In  him,  as  in  me,  to  be  jolted  out. 

'T  is  the  taught  already  that  profits  by  teaching ; 

He  gets  no  more  from  the  railway's  preaching 

Than,  from  this  preacher  who  does  the  rail's  office,  I ; 

Whom  therefore  the  flock  cast  a  jealous  eye  on. 

Still,  why  paint  over  their  door  "  Mount  Zion," 

To  which  all  flesh  shall  come,  saith  the  prophecy  ? 

v. 

But  wherefore  be  harsh  on  a  single  case  ? 

After  how  many  modes,  this  Christmas-Eve, 

Does  the  selfsame  weary  thing  take  place  ? 

The  same  endeavor  to  make  you  believe, 

And  with  much  the  same  effect,  no  more  : 

Each  method  abundantly  convincing, 

As  I  say,  to  those  convinced  before, 

But  scarce  to  be  swallowed  without  wincing, 

By  the  not-as-yet-convinced.     For  me, 

I  have  my  own  church  equally  : 

And  in  this  church  my  faith  sprang  first ! 


CHRISTMAS-EVE.  335 

(I  said,  as  I  reached  the  rising  ground, 

And  the  wind  began  again,  with  a  burst 

Of  rain  in  my  face,  and  a  glad  rebound 

From  the  heart  beneath,  as  if,  God  speeding  me, 

I  entered  His  church-door,  Nature  leading  me) 

—  In  youth  I  looked  to  these  very  skies, 

And  probing  their  immensities, 

I  found  God  there,  His  visible  power ; 

Yet  felt  in  my  heart,  amid  all  its  sense 

Of  that  power,  an  equal  evidence 

That  His  love,  there  too,  was  the  nobler  dower. 

For  the  loving  worm  within  its  clod,    • 

Were  diviner  than  a  loveless  god 

Amid  his  worlds,  I  will  dare  to  say. 

You  know  what  I  mean  :  God  's  all,  man 's  naught  : 

But  also,  God,  whose  pleasure  brought 

Man  into  being,  stands  away 

As  it  were,  a  handbreadth  off,  to  give 

Room  for  the  newly-made  to  live, 

And  look  at  Him  from  a  place  apart, 

And  use  His  gifts  of  brain  and  heart, 

Given,  indeed,  but  to  keep  forever. 

Who  speaks  of  man,  then,  must  not  sever 

Man's  very  elements  from  man, 

Saying,  "  But  all  is  God's  "  —  whose  plan 

Was  to  create  man  and  then  leave  him 

Able,  His  own  word  saith,  to  grieve  Him, 

But  able  to  glorify  Him  too, 

As  a  mere  machine  could  never  do, 


336  CHRISTMAS-EVE. 

That  prayed  or  praised,  all  unaware 

Of  its  fitness  for  aught  but  praise  and  prayer, 

Made  perfect  as  a  thing  of  course. 

Man,  therefore,  stands  on  his  own  stock 

Of  love  and  power  as  a  pin-point  rock, 

And,  looking  to  God  who  ordained  divorce 

Of  the  rock  from  His  boundless  continent, 

Sees,  in  His  power  made  evident, 

Only  excess  by  a  million-fold 

O'er  the  power  God  gave  man  in  the  mould. 

For,  note :  man's  hand,  first  formed  to  carry 

A  few  pounds'  weight,  when  taught  to  marry 

Its  strength  with  an  engine's,  lifts  a  mountain, 

—  Advancing  in  power  by  one  degree  ; 

And  why  count  steps  through  eternity  ? 

But  love  is  the  ever-springing  fountain  : 

Man  may  enlarge  or  narrow  his  bed 

For  the  water's  play,  but  the  water-head  — 

How  can  he  multiply  or  reduce  it  ? 

As  easy  create  it,  as  cause  it  to  cease ; 

He  may  profit  by  it,  or  abuse  it, 

But  5t  is  not  a  thing  to  bear  increase 

As  power  does  :  be  love  less  or  more 

In  the  heart  of  man,  he  keeps  it  shut 

Or  opes  it  wide,  as  he  pleases,  but 

Love's  sum  remains  what  it  was  before. 

So,  gazing  up,  in  my  .youth,  at  love 

As  seen  through  power,  ever  above 

All  modes  which  make  it  manifest, 


CHRISTMAS-EVE.  337 

My  soul  brought  all  to  a  single  test  — 
That  He,  the  Eternal  First  and  Last, 
Who,  in  His  power,  had  so  surpassed 
All  man  conceives  of  what  is  might,  — 
Whose  wisdom,  too,  showed  infinite, 
* —  Would  prove  as  infinitely  good  ; 
Would  never,  (my  soul  understood,) 
With  power  to  work  all  love  desires, 
Bestow  e'en  less  than  man  requires : 
That  He  who  endlessly  was  teaching, 
Above  my  spirit's  utmost  reaching, 
What  love  can  do  in  the  leaf  or  stone, 
(So  that  to  master  this  alone, 
This  done  in  the  stone  or  leaf  for  me, 
I  must  go  on  learning  endlessly) 
Would  never  need  that  I,  in  turn, 
Should  point  him  out  a  defect  unheeded, 
And  show  that  God  had  yet  to  learn 
What  the  meanest  human  creature  needed,  — 
—  Not  life,  to  wit,  for  a  few  short  years, 
Tracking  His  way  through  doubts  and  fears, 
While  the  stupid  earth  on  whichJC  stay 
Suffers  no  change,  but  passive  adds 
Its  myriad  years  to  myriads, 
Though  I,  He  gave  it  to,  decay, 
Seeing  death  come  and  choose  about  me, 
And  my  dearest  ones  depart  without  me. 
No !  love  which,  on  earth,  amid  all  the  shows  of  it, 
Has  ever  been  seen  the  sole  good  of  life  in  it, 
15  v 


m 

338  CHRISTMAS-EVE. 

The  love,  ever  growing  there,  spite  of  the  strife  in  it, 
Shall  arise,  made  perfect,  from  death's  repose  of  it ! 
And  I  shall  behold  Thee,  face  to.  face, 

0  God,  and  in  Thy  light  retrace 

How  in  all  I  loved  here,  still  wast  Thou  ! 
Whom  pressing  to,  then,  as  I  fain  would  now, 

1  shall  find  as  able  to  satiate 

The  love,  Thy  gift,  as  my  spirit's  wonder 

Thou  art  able  to  quicken  and  sublimate, 

With  this  sky  of  Thine,  that  I  now  walk  under, 

And  glory  in  Thee  for,  as  I  gaze 

Thus,  thus  !  oh,  let  men  keep  their  ways 

Of  seeking  Thee  in  a  narrow  shrine  — 

Be  this  my  way  !     And  this  is  mine  ! 

VI. 

For  lo,  what  think  you  ?  suddenly 

The  rain  and  the  wind  ceased,  and  the  sky 

Received  at  once  the  full  fruition 

Of  the  moon's  consummate  apparition. 

The  black  cloud-barricade  was  riven, 

Ruined  beneath  her  feet,  and  driven 

Deep  in  the  West ;  while,  bare  and  breathless, 

North  and  South  and  East  lay  ready 

For  a  glorious  Thing,  that,  dauntless,  deathless, 

Sprang  across  them,  and  stood  steady. 

JT  was  a  moon-rainbow,  vast  and  perfect, 

From  heaven  to  heaven  extending,  perfect 

As  the  mother-moon's  self,  full  in  face. 


CHRISTMAS-EVE.  339 

It  rose,  distinctly  at  the  base 

With  its  seven  proper  colors  chorded, 

Which  still,  in  the  rising,  were  compressed, 

Until  at  last  they  coalesced,      % 

And  supreme  the  spectral  creature  lorded 

In  a  triumph  of  whitest  white,  — 

Above  which  intervened  the  night. 

But  above  night  too,  like  only  the  next, 

The  second  of  a  wondrous  sequence, 

Reaching  in  rare  and  rarer  frequence^ 

Till  the  heaven  of  heavens  were  circumflext, 

Another  rainbow  rose,  a  mightier, 

Fainter,  flushier,  and  flightier,  — 

Rapture  dying  along  its  verge  ! 

Oh,  whose  foot  shall  I  see  emerge, 

WHOSE,  from  the  straining  topmost 

On  to  the  keystone  of  that  arc  ? 

VII. 

This  sight  was  shown  me,  there  and  then,  — 

Me,  one  out  of  a  world  of  men, 

Singled  forth,  as  the  chance  might  hap 

To  another,  if  in  a  thunderclap 

Where  I  heard  noise,  and  you  saw  flame, 

Some  one  man  knew  God  called  his  name. 

For  me,  I  think  I  said,  "  Appear ! 

Good  were  it  to  be  ever  here. 

If  Thou  wilt,  let  me  build  to  Thee 

Service  tabernacles  Three, 


340  CHRISTMAS-EVE. 

Where,  forever  in  Thy  presence, 

In  ecstatic  acquiescence, 

Far  alike  from  thriftless  learning 

And  ignorance'^  undiscerning, 

I  may  worship  and  remain  ! " 

Thus,  at  the  show  above  me,  gazing 

With  upturned  eyes,  I  felt  my  brain 

Glutted  with  the  glory,  blazing 

Throughout  its  whole  mass,  over  and  under, 

Until  at  length  it  burst  asunder, 

And  out  of  it  bodily  there  streamed 

The  too-much  glory,  as  it  seemed, 

Passing  from  out  me  to  the  ground, 

Then  palely  serpentining  round 

Into  the  dark  with  mazy  error. 

VIII, 

All  at  once  I  looked  up  with  terror. 

He  was  there. 

He  Himself  with  His  human  air, 

On  the  naiTow  pathway,  just  before. 

I  saw  the  back  of  Him,  no  more  — 

He  had  left  the  chapel,  then,  as  I. 

I  forgot  all  about  the  sky. 

No  face :  only  the  sight 

Of  a  sweepy  garment,  vast  and  white, 

With  a  hem  that  I  could  recognize. 

I  felt  terror,  no  surprise  : 

My  mind  filled  with  the  cataract, 


CHRISTMAS-EVE.  341 

At  one  bound,  of  the  mighty  fact. 

I  remembered,  He  did  say 

Doubtless,  that,  to  this  world's  end, 

Where  two  or  three  should  meet  and  pray, 

He  would-be  in  the  midst,  their  friend :? 

Certainly  He  was  there  with  them. 

And  my  pulses  leaped  for  joy 

Of  the  golden  thought  without  alloy, 

That  I  saw  His  very  vesture's  hem. 

Then  rushed  the  blood  back,  cold  and  clear 

With  a  fresh  enhancing  shiver  of  fear, 

And  I  hastened,  cried  out  while  I  pressed 

To  the  salvation  of  the  vest, 

"  But  not  so,  Lord !     It  cannot  be 

That  Thou,  indeed,  art  leaving  me  — 

Me,  that  have  despised  Thy  friends.    • 

Did  my  heart  make  no  amends  ? 

Thou  art  the  love  of  God  —  above 

His  power,  didst  hear  me  place  His  love, 

And  that  was  leaving  the  world  for  Thee. 

Therefore  Thou  must  not  turn  from  me 

As  if  I  had  chosen  the  other  part. 

Folly  and  pride  o'ercame  my  heart. 

Our  best  is  bad,  nor  bears  Thy  test ; 

Still,  it  should  be  our  very  best, 

I  thought  it  best  that  Thou,  the  Spirit, 

Be  worshipped  in  spirit  and  in  truth, 

And  in  beauty,  as  even  we  require  it  — 

Not  in  the  forms  burlesque,  uncouth, 


34:2  CHRISTMAS-EVE. 

I  left  but  now,  as  scarcely  fitted 
For  Thee  :  I  knew  not  what  I  pitied. 
But,  all  I  felt  there,  right  or  wrong, 
What  is  it  to  Thee,  who  curest  sinning  ? 
Am  I  not  weak  as  Thou  art  strong  ? 
I  have  looked  to  Thee  from  the  beginning, 
Straight  up  to  Thee  through  all  the  world 
Which,  like  an  idle  scroll,  lay  furled 
To  nothingness  on  either  side  : 
And  since  the  time  Thou  wast  descried, 
Spite  of  the  weak  heart,  So  have  I 
Lived  ever,  and  so  fain  would  die, 
Living  and  dying,  Thee  before  ! 
. '    But  if  Thou  leaves t  me  —  " 

IX. 

Less  or  more, 

I  suppose  that  I  spoke  thus. 
When,  —  have  mercy,  Lord,  on  us  ! 
The  whole  Face  turned  upon  me  full. 
And  I  spread  myself  beneath  it, 
As  when  the  bleacher  spreads,  to  seethe  it 
In  the  cleansing  sun,  his  wool,  — 
Steeps  in  the  flood  of  noontide  whiteness 
Some  defiled,  discolored  web  — 
So  lay  I,  saturate  with  brightness. 
And  when  the  flood  appeared  to  ebb, 
Lo,  I  was  walking,  light  and  swift, 
With  my  senses  settling  fast  and  steadying, 


CHRISTMAS-EVE.  343 

But  my  body  caught  up  in  the  whirl  and  drift 

Of  the  vesture's  amplitude,  still  eddying 

On,  just  before  me,  still  to  be  followed, 

As  it  carried  me  after  with  its  motion  : 

What  shall  I  say  ?  —  as  a  path  were  hollowed 

And  a  man  went  weltering  through  the  ocean, 

Sucked  along  in  the  flying  wake 

Of  the  luminous  water-snake. 

Darkness  and  cold  were  cloven,  as  through 

I  passed,  upborne  yet  walking  too. 

And  I  turned  to  myself  at  intervals,  — 

"  So  He  said,  and  so  it  befalls. 

God  who  registers  the  cup 

Of  mere  cold  water,  for  His  sake 

To  a  disciple  rendered  up, 

Disdains  not  His  own  thirst  to  slake 

At  the  poorest  love  was  ever  offered : 

And  because  it  was  my  heart  I  proffered, 

With  true  love  trembling  at  the  brim, 

He  suffers  me  to  follow  Him 

Forever,  my  own  way,  —  dispensed 

From  seeking  to  be  influenced 

By  all  the  less  immediate  ways 

That  earth,  in  worships  manifold, 

Adopts  to  reach,  by  prayer  and  praise, 

The  garment's  hem,  wliich,  lo,  I  hold ! " 

x. 

And  so  we  crossed  the  world  and  stopped. 
For  where  am  I,  in  city  or  plain, 


344 


CHRISTMAS-EVE. 


Since  I  am  'ware  of  the  world  again  ? 

And  what  is  this  that  rises  propped 

With  pillars  of  prodigious  girth  ? 

Is  it  really  on  the  earth, 

This  miraculous  Dome  of  God  ? 

Has  the  angel's  measuring-rod 

Which  numbered  cubits,  gem  from  gem, 

'Twixt  the  gates  of  the  New  Jerusalem, 

Meted  it  out,  —  and  what  he  meted, 

Have  the  sons  of  men  completed  ? 

—  Binding,  ever  as  he  bade, 

Columns  in  this  colonnade 

With  arms  wide  open  to  embrace 

The  entry  of  the  human  race 

To  the  breast  ofT.  .  what  is  it,  yon  building, 

Ablaze  in  front,  all  paint  and  gilding, 

With  marble  for  brick,  and  stones  of  price 

For  garniture  of  the  edifice  ? 

Now  I  see  ;  it  is  no  dream  ; 

It  stands  there  and  it  does  not  seem  : 

Forever,  in  pictures,  thus  it  looks, 

And  thus  I  have  read  of  it  in  books 

Often  in  England,  leagues  away, 

And  wondered  how  these  fountains  play, 

Growing  up  eternally 

Each  to  a  musical  water-tree, 

Whose  blossoms  drop,  a  glittering  boon, 

Before  my  eyes,  in  the  light  of  the  moon, 

To  the  granite  lavers  underneath. 


CHRISTMAS-EVE.  345 

Liar  and  dreamer  in  your  teeth  ! 
I,  the  sinner  that  speak  to  you, 
Was  in  Rome  this  night,  and  stood,  and  knew 
Both  this  and  more.     For  see,  for  see, 
The  dark  is  rent,  mine  eye  is  free 
To  pierce  the  crust  of  the  outer  wall, 
And  I  view  inside,  and  all  there,  all, 
As  the  swarming  hollow  of  a  hive, 
The  whole  Basilica  alive ! 
Men  in  the  chancel,  body,  and  nave, 
Men  on  the  pillars'  architrave, 
Men  on  the  statues,  men  on  the  tombs 
With  popes  and  kings  in  their  porphyry  wombs, 
All  famishing  in  expectation 
Of  the  main-altar's  consummation. 
For  see,  for  see,  the  rapturous  moment 
Approaches,  and  earth's  best  endowment 
Blends  with  Heaven's  ;  the  taper-fires 
Pant  up,  the  winding  brazen  spires 
Heave  loftier  yet  the  baldachin ; 
The  incense-gaspings,  long  kept  in, 
Suspire  in  clouds ;  the  organ  blatant 
Holds  his  breath  and  grovels  latent. 
As  if  God's  hushing  finger  grazed  him, 
(Like  Behemoth  when  He  praised  him) 
At  the  silver  bell's  shrill  tinkling, 
Quick  cold  drops  of  terror  sprinkling 
On  the  sudden  pavement  strewed 
With  faces  of  the  multitude. 
15* 


346  CHRISTMAS-EVE. 

Earth  breaks  up,  time  drops  away, 

In  flows  Heaven,  with  its  new  day 

Of  endless  life,  when  He  who  trod, 

Very  Man  and  very  God, 

This  earth  in  weakness,  shame  and  pain, 

Dying  the  death  whose  signs  remain 

Up  yonder  on  the  accursed  tree,  — 

Shall  come  again,  no  more  to  be 

Of  captivity  the  thrall, 

But  the  one  God,  All  in  all, 

King  of  kings,  Lord  of  lords, 

As  His  servant  John  received  the  words, 

"  I  died,  and  live  forevermore ! " 

XI. 

Yet  I  was  left  outside  the  door. 

Why  sat  I  there  on  the  threshold-stone, 

Left  till  He  return,  alone 

Save  for  the  garment's  extreme  fold 

Abandoned  still  to  bless  my  hold  ?  — 

My  reason,  to  my  doubt,  replied, 

As  if  a  book  were  opened  wide, 

And  at  a^jertain  page  I  traced 

Every  record  undefaced, 

Added  by  successive  years,  — 

The  harvestings  of  truth's  stray  ears 

Singly  gleaned,  and  in  one  sheaf 

Bound  together  for  belief. 

Yes,  I  said  —  that  He  will  go 


CHRISTMAS-EVE.  347 

And  sit  with  these  in  turn,  I  know. 

Their  faith's  heart  beats,  though  her  head  swims 

Too  giddily  to  guide  her  limbs, 

Disabled  by  their  palsy-stroke 

From  propping  me.     Though  Rome's  gross  yoke 

Drops  off,  no  more  to  be  endured, 

Her  teaching  is  not  so  obscured 

By  errors  and  perversities, 

That  no  truth  shines  athwart  the  lies  : 

And  He,  whose  eye  detects  a  spark 

Even  where,  to  man's,  the  whole  seems  dark, 

May  well  see  flame  where  each  beholder 

Acknowledges  the  embers  smoulder. 

But  I,  a  mere  man,  fear  to  quit 

The  clew  God  gave  me  as  most  fit 

To  guide  my  footsteps  through  life's  maze, 

Because  Himself  discerns  all  ways 

Open  to  reach  Him :  I,  a  man 

Able  to  mark  where  faith  began 

To  swerve  aside,  till  from  its  summit 

Judgment  drops  her  damning  plummet, 

Pronouncing  such  a  fatal  space 

Departed  from  the  Founder's  base  : 

He  will  not  bid  me  enter  too, 

But  rather  sit,  as  now  I  do, 

Awaiting  His  return  outside. 

—  'T  was  thus  my  reason  straight  replied, 

And  joyously  I  turned,  and  pressed 

The  garment's  skirt  upon  my  breast, 


348  CHRISTMAS-EYE. 

Until,  afresh  its  light  suffusing  me, 

My  heart  cried,  —  what  has  been  abusing  me 

That  I  should  wait  here  lonely  and  coldly, 

Instead  of  rising,  entering  boldly, 

Baring  truth's  face,  and  letting  drift 

Her  veils  of  lies  as  they  choose  to  shift  ? 

Do  these  men  praise  Him  ?     I  will  raise 

My  vtrice  up  to  their  point  of  praise  ! 

I  see  the  error ;  but  above 

The  scope  of  error,  see  the  love.  — 

O,  love  of  those  first  Christian  days! 

—  Fanned  so  soon  into  a  blaze, 

From  the  spark  preserved  by  the  trampled  sect, 
That  the  antique  sovereign  Intellect 
Which  then  sat  ruling  in  the  world, 
Like  a  change  in  dreams,  was  hurled 
From  the  throne  he  reigned  upon  : 

—  You  looked  up,  and  he  was  gone ! 
Gone,  his  glory  of  the  pen  ! 

—  Love,  with  Greece  and  Rome  in  ken, 
Bade  her  scribes  abhor  the  trick 

Of  poetry  and  rhetoric, 

And  exult,  with  hearts  set  free, 

In  blessed  imbecility 

Scrawled,  perchance,  on  some  torn  sheet, 

Leaving  Sallust  incomplete. 

Gone,  his  pride  of  sculptor,  painter ! 

—  Love,  while  able  to  acquaint  her 
With  the  thousand  statues  yet 


CHRISTMAS-EVE.  349 

Fresh  from  chiself  pictures  wet 

From  brush,  she  saw  on  every  side, 

Chose  rather  with  an  infant's  pride 

To  frame  those  portents  which  impart 

Such  unction  to  true  Christian  Art. 

Gone,  music  too !     The  air  was  stirred 

By  happy  wings  :  Terpander's  bird 

(That,  when  the  cold  came,  fled  away) 

Would  tarry  not  the  wintry  day,  — 

As  more-enduring  sculpture  must, 

Till  a  filthy  saint  rebuked  the  gust 

With  which  he  chanced  to  get  a  sight 

Of  some  dear  naked  Aphrodite 

He_  gjanced  a  thought  above  the  toes  of, 

By  breaking  zealously  her  nose  off. 

Love,  surely,  from  that  music's  lingering, 

Might  have  filched  her  organ-fingering, 

Nor  chosen  rather  to  set  prayings 

To  hog-grunts,  praises  to  horse-neighings. 

Love  was  the  startling  thing,  the  new ; 

Love  was  the  all-sufficient  too ; 

And  seeing  that,  you  see  the  rest : 

As  a  babe  can  find  its  mother's  breast 

As  well.in  darkness  as  in  light, 

Love  shut  our  eyes,  and  all  seemed  right. 

True,  the  world's  eyes  are  open  now  : 

—  Less  need  for  me  to  disallow 

Some  few  that  keep  Love's  zone  unbuckled, 

Peevish  as  ever  to  be  suckled, 


350  CHRISTMAS-EVE. 

Lulled  by  the  same  old  baby-f>rattle 

With  intermixture  of  the  rattle, 

When  she  would  have  them  creep,  stand  steady 

Upon  their  feet,  or  walk  already, 

Not  to  speak  of  trying  to  climb. 

I  will  be  wise  another  time, 

And  not  desire  a  wall  between  us, 

When  next  I  see  a  church-roof  cover 

So  many  species  of  one  genus, 

All  with  foreheads  bearing  Lover 

Written  above  the  earnest  eyes  of  them ; 

All  with  breasts  that  beat  for  beauty, 

Whether  sublimed,  to  the  surprise  of  them, 

In  noble  daring,  steadfast  duty, 

The  heroic  in  passion,  or  in  action,  — 

Or,  lowered  for  the  senses'  satisfaction, 

To  the  mere  outside  of  human  creatures, 

Mere  perfect  form  and  faultless  features. 

What  ?  with  all  Rome  here,  whence  to  levy 

Such  contributions  to  their  appetite, 

With  women  and  men  in  a  gorgeous  bevy, 

They  take,  as  it  were,  a  padlock,  and  it  tight 

On  their  southern  eyes,  restrained  from  feeding 

On  the  glories  of  their  ancient  reading, . 

On  the  beauties  of  their  modern  singing, 

On  the  wonders  of  the  builder's  bringing, 

On  the  majesties  of  Art  around  them,  — 

And,  all  these  loves,  late  struggling  incessant, 

When  faith  has  at  last  united  and  bound  them, 


CHRISTMAS-EVE.  351 

They  offer  up  to  God  for  a  present  ? 

Why,  I  will,  on  the  whole,  be  rather  proud  of  it,  — 

And,  only  taking  the  act  in  reference 

To  the  other  recipients  who  might  have  allowed  of  it, 

I  will  rejoice  that  God  had  the  preference. 

XII. 

So  I  summed  up  my  new  resolves  : 

Too  much  love  there  can  never  be. 

And  where  the  intellect  devolves 

Its  function  on  love  exclusively, 

I,  a  man  who  possesses  both, 

Will  accept  the  provision,  nothing  loath, 

—  Will  feast  my  love,  then  depart  elsewhere, 

That  my  intellect  may  find  its  share. 

And  ponder,  O  soul,  the  while  thou  departest, 

And  see  thou  applaud  the  great  heart  of  the  artist, 

Who,  examining  the  capabilities 

Of  the  block  of  marble  he  has  to  fashion 

Into  a  type  of  thought  or  passion,  — 

Not  always,  using  obvious  facilities, 

Shapes  it,  as  any  artist  can, 

Into  a  perfect  symmetrical  man, 

Complete  from  head  to  foot  of  the  life-size,  ' 

Such  as  old  Adam  stood  in  his  wife's  eyes,  — 

But,  now  and  then,  bravely  aspires  to  consummate 

A  Colossus  by  no  means  so  easy  to  come  at, 

And  uses  the  whole  of  his  block  for  the  bust, 

Leaving  the  minds  of  the  public  to  finish  it, 


352  CHRISTMAS-EVE. 

Since  cut  it  ruefully  short  he  must : 

On  the  face  alone  he  expends  his  devotion, 

He  rather  would  mar  than  resolve  to  diminish  it, 

—  Saying,  "  Applaud  me  for  this  grand  notion 
Of  what  a  face  may  be  !     As  for  completing  it 
In  breast  and  body  and  limbs,  do  that,  you  ! " 
All  hail !  I  fancy  how,  happily  meeting  it, 

A  trunk  and  legs  would  perfect  the  statue, 
Could  man  carve  so  as  to  answer  volition. 
And  how  much  nobler  than  petty  cavils, 
Were  a  hope  to  find,  in  my  spirit-travels, 
Some  artist  of  another  ambition, 
Who  having  a  block  to  carve,  no  bigger, 
JHas  spent  his  power  on  the  opposite  quest, 
And  believed  to  begin  at  the  feet  was  best  — 
For  so  may  I  see,  ere  I  die,  the  whole  figure  ! 

XIII. 

No  sooner  said  than  out  in  the  night ! 
My  heart  beat  lighter  and  more  light : 
And  still,  as  before,  I  was  walking  swift, 
With  my  senses  settling  fast  and  steadying, 
But  my  body  caught  up  in  the  whirl  and  drift 
Of  the  vesture's  amplitude,  still  eddying 
On  just  before  me,  still  to  be  followed, 
As  it  carried  me  after  with  its  motion, 

—  What  shall  I  say  ?  —  as  a  path  were  hollowed, 
And  a  man  went  weltering  through  the  ocean, 
Sucked  along  in  the  flying  wake 

Of  the  luminous  water-snake. 


CHRISTMAS-EVE.  353 

XIV. 

Alone  !  I  am  left  alone  once  more  — 

(Save  for  the  garment's  extreme  fold 

Abandoned  still  to  bless  my  hold) 

Alone,  beside  the  entrance-door 

Of  a  sort  of  temple,  —  perhaps  a  college, 

—  Like  nothing  I  ever  saw  before 

At  home  in  England,  to  my  knowledge. 

The  tall,  old,  quaint,  irregular  town  ! 

It  may  be  .  .  though  which,  I  can't  affirm  .  .  any 

Of  the  famous  middle-age  towns  of  Germany ; 

And  this  flight  of  stairs  where  I  sit  down, 

Is  it  Halle,  Weimar,  Cassel,  or  Frankfort, 

Or  Gottingen,  that  I  have  to  thank  for  't  ? 

It  may  be  Gottingen,  —  most  likely. 

Through  the  open  door  I  catch  obliquely 

Glimpses  of  a  lecture-hall ; 

And  not  a  bad  assembly  neither  — 

Ranged  decent  and  symmetrical 

On  benches,  waiting  what 's  to  see  there  ; 

"Which,  holding  still  by  the  vesture's  hem, 

I  also  resolve  to  see  with  them, 

Cautious  this  time  how  I  suffer  to  slip 

The  chance  of  joining  in  fellowship 

With  any  that  call  themselves  His  friends, 

As  these  folks  do,  I  have  a  notion. 

But  hist  —  a  buzzing  and  emotion  ! 

All  settle  themselves,  the  while  ascends 


354  CHRISTMAS-EVE. 

By  the  creaking  rail  to  the  lecture-desk, 
Step  by  step,  deliberate  ' 
'   Because  of  his  cranium's  over-freight, 
Three  parts  sublime  to  one  grotesque, 
If  I  have  proved  an  accurate  guess^r, 
The  hawk-nosed,  high-cheek-boned  Professor. 
I  felt  at  once  as  if  there  ran 
A  shoot  of  love  from  my  heart  to  the  man  — 
That  sallow,  virgin-minded,  studious 
Martyr  to  mild  enthusiasm, 
As  he  uttered  a  kind  of  cough-preludious 
That  woke  my  sympathetic  spasm, 
(Beside  some  spitting  that  made  me  sorry") 
And  stood,  surveying  his  auditory 
With  a  wan  pure  look,  wellnigh  celestial,  — 
Those  blue  eyes  had  survived  so  much  ! 
While,  under  the  foot  they  could  not  smutch, 
Lay  all  the  fleshly  and  the  bestial. 
Over  he  bowed,  and  arranged  his  notes, 
Till  the  auditory's  clearing  of  throats 
Was  done  with,  died  into  a  silence  ; 
And,  when  each  glance  was  upward  sent, 
Each  bearded  mouth  composed  intent, 
And  a  pin  might  be  heard  drop  half  a  mile  hence, - 
He  pushed  back  higher  his  spectacles, 
Let  the  eyes  stream  out  like  lamps  from  cells, 
And  giving  his  head  of  hair  —  a  hake 
Of  undressed  tow,  for  color  and  quantity  — 
One  rapid  and  impatient  shake, 


CHRISTMAS-EVE.  355 

(As  our  own  young  England  adjusts  a  jaunty  tic 
When  about  to  impart,  on  mature  digestion, 
Some  thrilling  view  of  the  surplice-question) 
—  The  Professor's  grave  voice,  sweet  though  hoarse, 
Broke  into  his  Christmas-Eve's  discourse. 

xv. 

And  he  began  it  by  observing 
How  reason  dictated  that  men 
Should  rectify  the  natural  swerving, 
By  a  reversion,  now  and  then, 
To  the  well-heads  of  knowledge,  few 
And  far  away,  whence  rolling  grew 
The  life-stream  wide  whereat  we  drink, 
Commingled,  as  we  needs  must  think, 
With  waters  alien  to  the  source  ; 
To  do  which,  aimed  this  eve's  discourse : 
Since,  where  could  be  a  fitter  time 
For  tracing  backward  to  its  prime, 
This  Christianity,  this  lake, 
This  reservoir,  whereat  we  slake, 
From  one  or  other  bank,  our  thirst  ? 
So,  he  proposed  inquiring  first 
Into  the  various  sources  whence 
This  Myth  of  Christ  is  derivable  ; 
Demanding  from  the  evidence 
(Since  plainly  no  such  life  was  liveable) 
How  these  phenomena  should  class  ? 
Whether  't  were  best  opine  Christ  was, 


356  CHRISTMAS-EVE. 

Or  never  was  at  all,  or  whether 

He  was  and  was  not,  both  together  — 

It  matters  little  for  the  name, 

So  the  Idea  be  left  the  same. 

Only,  for  practical  purpose'  sake 

'T  was  obviously  as  well  to  take 

The  popular  story,  —  understanding 

How  the  ineptitude  of  the  time, 

And  the  penman's  prejudice,  expanding 

Fact  into  fable  fit  for  the  clime, 

Had,  by  slow  and  sure  degrees,  translated  it 

Into  this  myth,  this  Individuum,  — 

Which,  when  reason  had  strained  and  abated  it 

Of  foreign  matter,  gave,  for  residuum, 

A  Man !  —  a  right  true  man,  however, 

Whose  work  was  worthy  a  man's  endeavor ; 

Work,  that  gave  warrant  almost  sufficient 

To  his  disciples,  for  rather  believing 

He  was  just  omnipotent  and  omniscient, 

As  it  gives  to  us,  for  as  frankly  receiving 

His  word,  their  tradition,  —  which,  though  it  meant 

Something  entirely  different 

From  all  that  those  who  only  heard  it, 

In  their  simplicity  thought  and  averred  it, 

Had  yet  a  meaning  quite  as  respectable  : 

For,  among  other  doctrines  delectable, 

Was  he  not  surely  the  first  to  insist  on 

The  natural  sovereignty  of  our  race  ?  — 

Here  the  lecturer  came  to  a  pausing-place. 


CHRISTMAS-EVE.  357 

And  while  his  cough,  like  a  drouthy  piston, 
Tried  to  dislodge  the  husk  that  grew  to  him, 
I  seized  the  occasion  of  bidding  adieu  to  him, 
The  vesture  still  within  my  hand. 

XVI. 

I  could  interpret  its  command. 
This  time  He  would  not  bid  me  enter 
The  exhausted  air-bell  of  the  Critic. 
Truth's  atmosphere  may  grow  mephitic 
When  Papist  struggles  with  Dissenter, 
Impregnating  its  pristine  clarity, 

—  One,  by  his  daily  fare's  vulgarity/ 
Its  gust  of  broken  meat  and  garlic  ; 

—  One,  by  his  soul's  too-much  presuming 
To  turn  the  frankincense's  fuming 

And  vapors  of  the  candle  starlike 
Into  the  cloud  her  wings  she  buoys  on. 
Each,  that  thus  sets  the  pure  air  seething, 
May  poison  it  for  healthy  breathing  — 
But  the  Critic  leaves  no  air  to  poison ; 
Pumps  out  by  a  ruthless  ingenuity 
Atom  by  atom,  and  leaves  you  —  vacuity. 
Thus  much  of  Christ,  does  he  reject  ? 
And  what  retain  ?     His  intellect  ? 
What  is  it  I  must  reverence  duly  ? 
Poor  intellect  for  worship,  truly, 
Which  tells  me  simply  what  was  told 
(If  mere  morality,  bereft 


358  CHRISTMAS-EVE. 

Of  the  God  in  Christ,  be  all  that's  left) 

Elsewhere  by  voices  manifold ; 

With  this  advantage,  that  the  stater 

Made  nowise  the  important  stumble 

Of  adding,  he,  the  sage  and  humble, 

Was  also  one  with  the  Creator. 

You  urge  Christ's  followers'  simplicity : 

But  how  does  shifting  blame,  evade  it  ? 

Have  wisdom's  words  no  more  felicity  ? 

The  stumbling-block,  His  speech  —  who  laid  it  ? 

How  comes  it  that  for  one  found  able 

To  sift  the  truth  of  it  from  fable, 

Millions  believe  it  to  the  letter  ? 

Christ's  goodness,  then  —  does  that  fare  better  ? 

Strange  goodness,  which  upon  the  score 

Of  being  goodness,  the  mere  due 

Of  man 'to  fellow-man,  much  more 

To  God,  —  should  take  another  view 

Of  its  possessor's  privilege, 

And  bid  him  rule  his  race  !     You  pledge 

Your  fealty  to  such  rule  ?    What,  all  — 

From  Heavenly  John  and  Attic  Paul, 

And  that  brave  weather-battered  Peter 

Whose  stout  faith  only  stood  completer 

For  buffets,  sinning  to  be  pardoned, 

As  the  more  his  hands  hauled  nets,  they  hardened,  — 

All,  down  to  you,  the  man  of  men, 

Professing  here  at  Gb'ttingen, 

Compose  Christ's  flock  !     They,  you  and  I 


CHRISTMAS-EVE.  359 

Are  sheep  of  a  good  man  !  and  why  ? 

The  goodness,  —  how  did  he  acquire  it  ? 

Was  it  self-gained,  did  God  inspire  it  ? 

Choose  which  ;  then  tell  me,  on  what  ground 

Should  its  possessor  dare  propound 

His  claim  to  rise  o'er  us  an  inch  ? 

Were  goodness  all  some  man's  invention, 

Who  arbitrarily  made  mention 

What  we  should  follow,  and  where  flinch,  — 

What  qualities  might  take  the  style 

Of  right  and  wrong,  —  and  had  such  guessing 

Met  with  as  general  acquiescing 

As  graced  the  Alphabet  erewhile,  ^ 

When  A  got  leave  an  Ox  to  be, 

No  Camel  (quoth  the  Jews)  like  G,  — 

For  thus  inventing  thing  and  title 

Worship  were  that  man's  fit  requital. 

But  if  the  common  conscience  must 

Be  ultimately  judge,  adjust 

Its  apt  name  to  each  quality 

Already  known,  —  I  would  decree 

Worship  for  such  mere  demonstration 

And  simple  work  of  nomenclature, 

Only  the  day  I  praised,  not  Nature, 

But  Harvey,  for  the  circulation. 

I  would  praise  such  a  Christ,  with  pride 

And  joy,  that  he,  as  none  beside, 

Had  taught  us  how  to  keep  the  mind 

God  gave  him,  as  God  gave  his  kind, 


360  CHKISTMAS-EVE. 

Freer  than  they  from  fleshly  taint : 
I  would  call  such  a  Christ  our  Saint, 
As  I  declare  our  Poet,  him 
Whose  insight  makes  all  others  dim : 
A  thousand  poets  pried  at  life, 
And  only  one  amid  the  strife 
Rose  to  be  Shakespeare  :  each  shall  take 
His  crown,  I  'd  say,  for  the  world's  sake  — 
Though  some  objected  —  "  Had  we  seen 
The  heart  and  head  of  each,  what  screen 
Was  broken  there  to  give  them  light, 
While  in  ourselves  it  shuts  the  sight, 
9     We  should  no  more  admire,  perchance, 
That  these  found  truth  out  at  a  glance, 
Than  marvel  how  the  bat  discerns 
Some  pitch-dark  cavern's  fifty  turns, 
Led  by  a  finer  tact,  a  gift 
He  boasts,  which  other  birds  must  shift 
Without,  and  grope  as  best  they  can." 
No,  freely  I  would  praise  the  man,  — 
Nor  one  whit  more,  if  he  contended 
That  gift  of  his,  from  God,  descended. 
Ah,  friend,  what  gift  of  man's  does  not  ? 
No  nearer  Something,  by  a  jot, 
Rise  an  infinity  of  Nothings 
Than  one  :  take  Euclid  for  your  teacher  : 
Distinguish  kinds  :  do  crownings,  clothings, 
Make  that  Creator  which  was  creature  ? 
Multiply  gifts  upon  his  head, 


CHRISTMAS-EVE.  361 

And  what,  when  all 's  done,  shall  be  said 

But  —  the  more  gifted  he,  I  ween  ! 

That  one  's  made  Christ,  this  other,  Pilate, 

And  This  might  be  all  That  has  been,  — 

So  what  is  there  to  frown  or  smile  at  ? 

What  is  left  for  us,  save,  in  growth 

Of  soul,  to  rise  up,  far  past  both, 

From  the  gift  looking  to  the  Giver, 

And  from  the  cistern  to  the  River, 

And  from  the  finite  to  Infinity, 

And  from  man's  dust  to  God's  divinity  ? 

XVII. 

Take  all  in  a  word  :  the  truth  in  God's  breast 
Lies  trace  for  trace  upon  ours  impressed : 
Though  He  is  so  bright  and  we  so  dim, 
We  are  made  in  His  image  to  witness  Him  ; 
And  were  no  eye  in  us  to  tell, 
Instructed  by  no  inner  sense, 
The  light  of  Heaven  from  the  dark  of  Hell, 
That  light  would  want  its  evidence,  — 
Though  Justice,  Good  and  Truth  were  still 
Divine,  if,  by  some  demon's  will, 
Hatred  and  wrong  had  been  proclaimed 
Law  through  the  worlds,  and  Right  misnamed. 
No  mere  exposition  of  morality 
Made  or  in  part  or  in  totality, 
Should  win  you  to  give  it  worship,  therefore  : 
And,  if  no  better  proof  you  will  care  for, 
16 


362  CHRISTMAS-EVE. 

—  Whom  do  you  count  the  worst  man  upon  earth  ? 

Be  sure,  he  knows,  in  his  conscience,  more 

Of  what  Right  is,  than  arrives  at  birth 

In  the  best  man's  acts  that  we  bow  before  : 

This  last  knows  better  —  true,  but  my  fact  is, 

'T  is  one  thing  to  know,  and  another  to  practise. 

And  thence  I  conclude  that  the  real  God-function 

Is  to  furnish  a  motive  and  injunction 

For  practising  what  we  know  already. 

And  such  an  injunction  and  such  a  motrve 

As  the  God  in  Christ,  do  you  waive,  and  "  heady, 

High-minded,"  hang  your  tablet-votive 

Outside  the  fane  on  a  finger-post  ? 

Morality  to  the  uttermost, 

Supreme  in  Christ  as  we  all  confess, 

Why  need  we  prove  would  avail  no  jot 

To  make  Him  God,  if  God  He  were  not  ? 

What  is  the  point  where  Himself  lays  stress  ? 

Does  the  precept  run  "  Believe  in  Good, 

In  Justice,  Truth,  now  understood 

For  the  first  time  "  ?  —  or,  "  Believe  in  ME, 

Who  lived  and  died,  yet  essentially 

Am  Lord  of  Life  "  ?     Whoever  can  take 

The  same  to  his  heart  and  for  mere  love's  sake 

Conceive  of  the  love,  —  that  man  obtains 

A  new  truth ;  no  conviction  gains 

Of  an  old  one  only,  made  intense 

By  a  fresh  appeal  to  his  faded  sense. 


CHRISTMAS-EVE.  363 


XVIII. 

Can  it  be  that  He  stays  inside  ? 

Is  the  vesture  left  me  to  commune  with  ? 

Could  my  soul  find  aught  to  sing  in  tune  with 

Even  at  this  lecture,  if  she  tried  ? 

O,  let  me  at  lowest  sympathize 

With  the  lurking  drop  of  blood  that  lies 

In  the  desiccated  brain's  white  roots 

Without  a  throb  for  Christ's  attributes, 

As  the  Lecturer  makes  his  special  boast ! 

If  love 's  dead  there,  it  has  left  a  ghost.       , 

Admire  we,  how  from  heart  to  brain 

(Though  to  say  so  strike  the  doctors  dumb) 

One  instinct  rises  and  falls  again, 

Restoring  the  equilibrium. 

And  how  when  the  Critic  had  done  his  best, 

And  the  Pearl  of  Price,  at  reason's  test, 

Lay  dust  and  ashes  levigable 

On  the  Professor's  lecture-table ; 

When  we  looked  for  the  inference  and  monition 

That  our  faith,  reduced  to  such  a  condition, 

Be  swept  forthwith  to  its  natural  dust-hole,  — 

He  bids  us,  when  we  least  expect  it, 

Take  back  our  faith,  —  if  it  be  not  just  whole, 

Yet  a  pearl  indeed,  as  his  tests  affect  it, 

Which  fact  pays  the  damage  done  rewardingly, 

So,  prize  we  our  dust  and  ashes  accordingly  ! 

"  Go  home  and  venerate  the  Myth 


364  CHRISTMAS-EVE. 

I  thus  have  experimented  with  — 
This  Man,  continue  to  adore  him 
Rather  than  all  who  went  before  him, 
And  all  who  ever  followed  after ! "  — 
Surely  for  this  I  may  praise  you,  my  brother  ! 
.     Will  you  take  the  praise  in  tears  or  laughter  ? 
That 's  one  point  gained :  can  I  compass  another  ? 
Unlearned  love  was  safe  from  spurning  — 
Can't  we  respect  your  loveless  learning  ? 
Let  us  at  least  give  Learning  honor ! 
What  laurels  had  we  showered  upon  her, 
Girding  her  loins  up  to  perturb 
Our  theory  of  the  Middle  Verb ; 
Or  Turk-like  brandishing  a  scimitar 
O'er  anapaests  in  comic-trimeter ; 
Or  curing  the  halt  and  maimed  Iketides, 
While  we  lounged  on  at  our  indebted  ease : 
Instead  of  which,  a  tricksy  demon 
Sets  her  at  Titus  or  Philemon ! 
When  Ignorance  wags  his  ears  of  leather 
And  hates  God's  word,  't  is  altogether ; 
Nor  leaves  he  his  congenial  thistles 
To  go  and  browse  on  Paul's  Epistles. 
—  And  you,  the  audience,  who  might  ravage 
The  world  wide,  enviably  savage, 
Nor  heed  the  cry  of  the  retriever, 
More  than  Herr  Heine  (before  his  fever),  — 
I  do  not  tell  a  lie  so  arrant 
As  say  my  passion's  wings  are  furled  up, 


CHRISTMAS-EVE.  365 

And,  without  the  plainest  Heavenly  warrant, 
I  were  ready  and  glad  to  give  this  world  up  — - 
But  still,  when  you  rub  the  brow  meticulous, 
And  ponder  the  profit  of  turning  holy 
If  not  for  God's,  for  your  own  sake  solely, 
—  God  forbid  I  should  find  you  ridiculous  ! 
Deduce  from  this  lecture  all  that  eases  you, 
Nay,  call  yourselves,  if  the  calling  pleases  you, 
"  Christians,"  —  abhor  the  Deist's  pravity,  — 
Go  on,  you  shall  no  more  move  my  gravity, 
Than,  when  I  see  boys  ride  a-cockhorse 
I  find  it  in  my  heart  to  embarrass  them 
By  hinting  that  their  stick  's  a  mock  horse, 
And  they  really  carry  what  they  say  carries  them. 

XIX. 

So  sat  I  talking  with  my  mind. 

I  did  not  long  to  leave  the  door 

And  find  a  new  church,  as  before, 

But  rather  was  quiet  and  inclined 

To  prolong  and  enjoy  the  gentle  resting 

From  further  tracking  and  trying  and  testing. 

This  tolerance  is  a  genial  mood  ! 

(Said  I,  and  a  little  pause  ensued). 

One  trims  the  bark  'twixt  shoal  and  shelf, 

And  sees,  each  side,  the  good  effects  of  it, 

A  value  for  religion's  self, 

A  carelessness  about  the  sects  of  it. 

Let  me  enjoy  my  own  conviction, 


S66  CHRISTMAS-EVE. 

Not  watch  my  neighbor's  faith  with  fretfulness 

Still  spying  there  some  dereliction 

Of  truth,  perversity,  forgetfulness ! 

Better  a  mild  indifferentism, 

Teaching  that  all  our  faiths  (though  duller 

His  shine  through  a  dull  spirit's  prism) 

Originally  had  one  color  — 

Sending  me  on  a  pilgrimage 

Through  ancient  and  through  modern  times 

To  many  peoples,  various  climes, 

Where  I  may  see  Saint,  Savage,  Sage 

Fuse  their  respective  creeds  in  one 

Before  the  general  Father's  throne  ! 

xx. 

—  'T  was  the  horrible  storm  began  afresh  ! 
The  black  night  caught  me  in  his  mesh 
Whirled  me  up,  and  flung  me  prone. 

I  was  left  on  the  college-step  alone. 
I  looked,  and  far  there,  ever  fleeting 
Far,  far  away,  the  receding  gesture, 
And  looming  of  the  lessening  vesture  !  — 
Swept  forward  from  my  stupid  hand, 
While  I  Avatched  my  foolish  heart  expand 
In  the  lazy  glow  of  benevolence, 
O'er  the  various  modes  of  man's  belief. 
I  sprang  up  with  fear's  vehemence. 

—  Needs  must  there  be  one  way,  our  chief 
Best  way  of  worship  :  let  me  strive 


CHRISTMAS-EVE.  367 

To  find  it,  and  when  found,  contrive 

My  fellows  also  take  their  share ! 

This  constitutes  my  earthly  care : 

God's  is  above  it  and  distinct.     . 

For  I,  a  man,  with  men  am  linked, 

And  not  a  brute  with  brutes ;  no  gain 

That  I  experience,  must  remain 

Unshared :  but  should  my  best  endeavor 

To  share  it,  fail  —  subsisteth  ever 

God's  care  above,  and  I  exult 

That  God,  by  God's  own  ways  occult, 

May  —  doth,  I  will  believe  —  bring  back 

All  wanderers  to  a  single  track.  . 

Meantime,  I  can  but  testify 

God's  care  for  me  —  no  more,  can  I  — 

It  is  but  for  myself  I  know  ; 

The  world  rolls  witnessing  around  me 

Only  to  leave  me  as  it  found  me ; 

Men  cry  there,  but  my  ear  is  slow : 

Their  races  flourish  or  decay 

—  What  boots  it,  while  yon  lucid  way 

Loaded  with  stars,  divides  the  vault  ? 

But  soon  my  soul  repairs  its  fault 

When,  sharpening  sense's  hebetude, 

She  turns  on  my  own  life !     So  viewed, 

No  mere  mote's-breadth  but  teems  immense 

With  witnessings  of  Providence  : 

And  woe  to  me  if  when  I  look 

Upon  that  record,  the  sole  book 


368 


CHRISTMAS-EVE. 

Unsealed  to  me,  I  take  no  heed 

Of  any  warning  that  I  read  ! 

Have  I  been  sure,  this  Christmas-Eve, 

God's  own  hand  did  the  rainbow  weave, 

Whereby  the  truth  from  heaven  slid 

Into  my  soul  ?  —  I  cannot  bid 

The  world  admit  He  stooped  to  heal 

My  soul,  as  if  in  a  thunder-peal 

"Where  one  heard  noise,  and  one  saw  flame, 

I  only  knew  He  named  my  name : 

But  what  is  the  world  to  me,  for  sorrow 

Or  joy  in  its  censure,  when  to-morrow 

It  drops  the  remark,  with  just-turned  head 

Then,  on  again  —  that  man  is  dead  ? 

Yes,  but  for  me  —  my  name  called,  —  drawn 

As  a  conscript's  lot  from  the  lap's  black  yawn, 

He  has  dipt  into  on  a  battle-dawn  : 

Bid  out  of  life  by  a  nod,  a  glance,  — 

Stumbling,  mute-mazed,  at  nature's  chance,  — 

With  a  rapid  finger  circled  round, 

Fixed  to  the  first  poor  inch  of  ground 

To  fight  from,  where  his  foot  was  found  ; 

Whose  ear  but  a  minute  since  lay  free 

To  the  wide  camp's  buzz  and  gossipry  — 

Summoned,  a  solitary  man, 

To  end  his  life  where  his  life  began, 

From  the  safe  glad  rear,  to  the  dreadful  van ! 

Soul  of  mine,  hadst  thou  caught  and  held 

By  the  hem  of  the  vesture !  — 


CHRISTMAS-EVE.  369 

XXI. 

And  I  caught 

At  the  flying  robe,  and  unrepelled 
"Was  lapped  again  in  its  folds  full-fraught 
With  warmth  and  wonder  and  delight, 
God's  mercy  being  infinite. 
For  scarce  had  the  words  escaped  my  tongue, 
When,  at  a  passionate  bound,  I  sprung 
Out  of  the  wandering  world  of  rain, 
Into  the  little  chapel  again. 

XXII. 

How  else  was  I  found  there,  bolt  upright 
On  my  bench,  as  if  I  had  never  left  it  ? 
—  Never  flung  out  on  the  common  at  night 
Nor  met  the  storm  and  wedge-like  cleft  it, 
Seen  the  raree-show  of  Peter's  successor, 
Or  the  laboratory  of  the  Professor ! 
For  the  Vision,  that  was  true,  I  wist, 
True  as  that  heaven  and  earth  exist. 
There  sat  my  friend,  the  yellow  and  tall, 
With  his  neck  and  its  wen  in  the  selfsame  place ; 
Yet  my  nearest  neighbor's  cheek  showed  gall, 
She  had  slid  away  a  contemptuous  space  : 
And  the  old  fat  woman,  late  so  placable, 
Eyed  me  with  symptoms,  hardly  mistakable, 
Of  her  milk  of  kindness  turning  rancid. 
In  short  a  spectator  might  have  fancied 

16*  x 


370  CHRISTMAS-EVE. 

That  I  had  nodded  betrayed  by  slumber, 

Yet  kept  my  seat,  a  warning  ghastly, 

Through  the  heads  of  the  sermon,  nine  in  number, 

And  woke  up  now  at  the  tenth  and  lastly. 

But  again,  could  such  a  disgrace  have  happened  ? 

Each  friend  at  my  elbow  had  surely  nudged  it ; 

And,  as  for  the  sermon,  where  did  my  nap  end  ? 

Unless  I  heard  it,  could  I  have  judged  it  ? 

Could  I  report  as  I  do  at  the  close, 

First,  the  preacher  speaks  through  his  nose  : 

Second,  his  gesture  is  too  emphatic : 

Thirdly,  to  wave  what 's  pedagogic. 

The  subject-matter  itself  lacks  logic : 

Fourthly,  the  English  is  ungrammatic. 

Great  news !  the  preacher  is  found  no  Pascal, 

Whom,  if  I  pleased,  I  might  to  the  task  call 

Of  making  square  to  a  finite  eye 

The  circle  of  infinity, 

And'find  so  all-but-just-succeeding ! 

Great  news !  the  sermon  proves  no  reading 

Where  bee-like  in  the  flowers  I  may  bury  me, 

Like  Taylor's,  the  immortal  Jeremy  ! 

And  now  that  I  know  the  very  worst  of  him, 

What  was  it  I  thought  to  obtain  at  first  of  him  ? 

Ha  !     Is  God  mocked,  as  He  asks  ? 

Shall  I  take  on  me  to  change  His  tasks, 

And  dare,  despatched  to  a  river-head 

For  a  simple  draught  of  the  element, 

Neglect  the  tiling  for  which  He  sent, 


CHRISTMAS-EVE.  371 

And  return  with  another  thing  instead  ?  — 

Saying,  "  Because  the  water  found 

Welling  up  from  underground, 

Is  mingled  with  the  taints  of  earth, 

While  Thou,  I  know,  dost  laugh  at  dearth, 

Arid  couldest,  at  a  word,  convulse 

The  world  with  the  leap  of  its  river-pulse,  — 

Therefore  I  turned  from  the  oozings  muddy, 

And  bring  thee  a  chalice  I  found,  instead : 

See  the  brave  veins  in  the  breccia  ruddy ! 

One  would  suppose  that  the  marble  bled. 

What  matters  the  water  ?     A  hope  I  have  nursed, 

That  the  waterless  cup  will  quench  my  thirst." 

—  Better  have  knelt  at  the  poorest  stream 

That  trickles  in  pain  from  the  straitest  rift ! 

For  the  less  or  the  more  is  all  God's  gift, 

Who  blocks  up  or  breaks  wide  the  granite-seam. 

And  here,  is  there  water  or  not,  to  drink  ? 

I,  then,  in  ignorance  and  weakness, 

Taking  God's  help,  have  attained  to  think 

My  heart  does  best  to  receive  in  meekness 

That  mode  of  worship,  as  most  to  His  mind, 

Where  earthly  aids  being  cast  behind, 

His  All  in  All  appears  serene 

With  the  thinnest  human  veil  between, 

Letting  the  mystic  Lamps,  the  Seven, 

The  many  motions  of  His  spirit, 

Pass,  as  they  list,  to  earth  from  Heaven. 

For  the  preacher's  merit  or  demerit, 


372  CHEISTMAS-EVE. 

It  were  to  be  wished  the  flaws  were  fewer 

In  the  earthen  vessel,  holding  treasure, 

Which  lies  as  safe  in  a  golden  ewer ; 

But  the  main  thing  is,  does  it  hold  good  measure  ? 

Heaven  soon  sets  right  all  other  matters  !  — 

Ask,  else,  these  ruins  of  humanity, 

Tin's  flesh  worn  out  to  rags  and  tatters, 

This  soul  at  struggle  with  insanity, 

Who  thence  take  comfort,  can  I  doubt, 

Which  an  empire  gained,  were  a  loss  without. 

May  it  be  mine  !     And  let  us  hope 

That  no  worse  blessing  befall  the  Pope, 

Turn'd  sick  at  last  of  the  day's  buffoonery, 

Of  its  posturings  and  its  petticoatings, 

Beside  his  Bourbon  bully's  gloatings 

In  the  bloody  orgies  of  drunk  poltroonery  ! 

Nor  may  the  Professor  forego  its  peace 

At  Gottingen,  presently,  when,  in  the  dusk 

Of  his  life,  if  his  cough,  as  I  fear,  should  increase 

Prophesied  of  by  that  horrible  husk ; 

When,  thicker  and  thicker,  the  darkness  fills 

The  world  through  his  misty  spectacles, 

And  he  gropes  for  something  more  substantial 

Than  a  fable,  myth,  or  personification,  — 

May  Christ  do  for  him,  what  no  mere  man  shall, 

And  stand  confessed  as  the  God  of  salvation ! 

Meantime,  in  the  still  recurring  fear 

Lest  myself,  at  unawares,  be  found, 

While  attacking  the  choice  of  my  neighbors  round, 


CHRISTMAS-EVE.  373 

Without  my  own  made  — •  I  choose  here  ! 

The  giving  out  of  the  hymn  reclaims  me ; 

I  have  done  !  —  And  if  any  blames  me, 

Thinking  that  merely  to  touch  in  brevity 

The  topics  I  dwell  on,  were  unlawful,  — 

Or,  worse,  that  I  trench,  with  undue  levity, 

On  the  bounds  of  the  holy  and  the  awful,  — 

I  praise  the  heart,  and  pity  the  head  of  him, 

And  refer  myself  to  THEE,  instead  of  him, 

Who  head  and  heart  alike  discernest, 

Looking  below  light  speech  we  utter 

When  the  frothy  spume  and  frequent  sputter 

Prove  that  the  soul's  depths  boil  in  earnest ! 

May  the  truth  shine  out,  stand  ever  before  us  I 

I  put  up  pencil  and  join  chorus 

To  Hepzibah  Tune,  without  further  apology, 

The  last  five  verses  of  the  third  section 

Of  the  seventeenth  hymn  in  Whitfield's  Collection, 

To'  conclude  with  the  doxology. 


EASTER-DAY. 


How  very  hard  it  is  to  be 

A  Christian  !     Hard  for  you  and  me, 

—  Not  the  mere  task  of  making  real 
That  duty  up  to  its  ideal, 
Effecting  thus,  complete  and  whole, 
A  purpose  of  the  human  soul  — 
For  that  is  always  hard  to  do  ; 

But  hard,  I  mean,  for  me  and  you 
To  realize  it,  more  or  less, 
With  even  the  moderate  success 
Which  commonly  repays  our  strife 
To  carry  out  the  aims  of  life. 
"  This  aim  is  greater,"  you  will  say, 
"And  so  more  arduous  every  way." 

—  But  the  importance  of  their  fruits 
Still  proves  to  man,  in  all  pursuits, 
Proportional  encouragement. 

"  Then,  what  if  it  be  God's  intent 
That  labor  to  this  one  result 
Should  seem  unduly  difficult  ?  " 
Ah,  that 's  a  question  in  the  dark  — 


EASTER-DAY.  375 

And  the  sole  thing  that  I  remark 

Upon  the  difficulty,  this  ; 

We  do  not  see  it  where  it  is, 

At  the  beginning  of  the  race  : 

As  we  proceed,  it  shifts  its  place, 

And  where  we  looked  for  crowns  to  fall, 

We  find  the  tug  '&  to  come,  —  that 's  all. 

ii. 

At  first  you  say,  "  The  whole,  or  chief 
Of  difficulties,  is  Belief. 
Oould  I  believe  once  thoroughly, 
The  rest  were  simple.     What  ?     Am  I 
An  idiot,  do  you  think,  —  a  beast  ? 
Prove  to  me,  only  that  the  least 
Command  of  God  is  God's  indeed, 
And  what  injunction  shall  I  need 
To  pay  obedience  ?     Death  so  nigh, 
When  time  must  end,  eternity 
Begin,  —  and  cannot  I  compute, 
Weigh  loss  and  gain  together,  suit 
My  actions  to  the  balance  drawn, 
And  give  my  body  to  be  sawn 
Asunder,  hacked  in  pieces,  tied 
To  horses,  stoned,  burned,  crucified, 
Like  any  martyr  of  the  list  ? 
How  gladly !  - —  if  I  made  acquist, 
Through  the  brief  minute's  fierce  annoy, 
Of  God's  eternity  of  joy." 


376  EASTER-DAT. 


m. 

—  And  certainly  you  name  the  point 
Whereon  all  turns  :  for  could  you  joint 
This  flexile  finite  life  once  tight  ' 
Into  the  fixed  and  infinite, 
You,  safe  inside,  would  spurn  what 's  out, 
With  carelessness  enough,  no  doubt  — 
Would  spurn  mere  life  :  but  when  time  brings 
To  their  next  stage  your  reasonings, 
Your  eyes,  late  wide,  begin  to  wink 
Nor  see  the  path  so  well,  I  think. 

IV. 

You  say,  "  Faith  may  be,  one  agrees, 
A  touchstone  for  God's  purposes, 
Even  as  ourselves  conceive  of  them. 
Could  He  acquit  us  or  condemn 
For  holding  what  no  hand  can  loose, 
Rejecting  when  we  can't  but  choose  ? 
As  well  award  the  victor's  wreath 
To  whosoever  should  take  breath 
Duly  each  minute  while  he  lived  — 
Grant  Heaven,  because  a  man  contrived 
To  see  its  sunlight  every  day 
He  walked  forth  on  the  public  way. 
You  must  mix  some  uncertainty 
With  faith,  if  you  would  have  faith  be. 
Why,  what  but  faith,  do  we  abhor 


EASTER-DAT.  377 

And  idolize  each  other  for  — 

Faith  in  our  evil,  or  our  good, 

"Which  is  or  is  not  understood 

Aright  by  those  we  love  or  those 

We  hate,  thence  called  our  friends  or  foes  ? 

Your  mistress  saw  your  spirit's  grace, 

When,  turning  from  the  ugly  face, 

I  found  belief  in  it  too  hard ; 

And  she  and  I  have  our  reward. 

—  Yet  here  a  doubt  peeps :  well  for  us 
Weak  beings,  to  go  using  thus 

A  touchstone  for  our  little  ends, 
Trying  with  faith  the  foes  and  friends ; 

—  But  God,  bethink  you  !     I  would  fain 
Conceive  of  the  Creator's  reign 

As  based  upon  exacter  laws 
Than  creatures  build  by  with  applause. 
In  all  God's  acts  —  (as  Plato  cries 
He  doth)  —  He  should  geometrize. 
Whence,  I  desiderate  .  .  ." 

v. 

I  see! 

You  would  grow  as  a  natural  tree, 
Stand  as  a  rock,  soar  up  like  fire. 
The  world 's  so  perfect  and  entire, 
Quite  above  faith,  so  right  and  fit ! 
Go  there,  walk  up  and  down  in  it ! 
No.  The  creation  travails,  groans  — 


378  EASTER-DAY. 

Contrive  your  music  from  its  moans, 
Without  or  let  or  hindrance,  friend ! 
That 's  an  old  story,  and  its  end 
As  old  —  you  come  back  (be  sincere) 
With  every  question  you  put  here 
(Here  where  there  once  was,  and  is  still, 
We  think,  a  living  oracle, 
Whose  answers  you  stand  carping  at) 
This  time  flung  back  unanswered  flat,  — 
Besides,  perhaps,  as  many  more 
As  those  that  drove  you  out  before, 
Now  added,  where  was  little  need ! 
Questions  impossible,  indeed, 
To  us  who  sat  still,  all  and  each 
Persuaded  that  our  earth  had  speech 
Of  God's,  writ  down,  no  matter  if 
In  cursive  type  or  hieroglyph,  — 
Which  one  fact  freed  us  from  the  yoke 
Of  guessing  why  He  never  spoke. 
You  come  back  in  no  better  plight 
Than  when  you  left  us,  —  am  I  right  ? 

VI. 

So,  the  old  process,  I  conclude, 

Goes  on,  the  reasoning 's  pursued 

Further.     You  own,  "  'T  is  well  averred, 

A  scientific  faith 's  absurd, 

—  Frustrates  the  very  end  't  was  meant 

To  serve.     So,  I  would  rest  content 


EASTER-DAT.  379 

"With  a  mere  probability, 
But,  probable  ;  the  chance  must  lie 
Clear  on  one  side,  —  lie  all  in  rough, 
So  long  as  there  be  just  enough 
To  pin  my  faith  to,  though  it  hap 
Only  at  points :  from  gap  to  gap 
One  hangs  up  a  huge  curtain  so, 
Grandly,  nor  seeks  to  have  it  go 
Foldless  and  flat  along  the  wall. 
—  What  care  I  if  some  interval 
Of  life  less  plainly  may  depend 
On  God?     I  'd  hang  there  to  the  end ; 
And  thus  I  should  not  find  it  hard 
To  be  a  Christian  and  debarred 
From  trailing  on  the  earth,  till  furled 
Away  by  death.  —  Renounce  the  world ! 
Were  that  a  mighty  hardship  ?     Plan 
A  pleasant  life,  and  straight  some  man 
Beside  you,  with,  if  he  thought  fit, 
Abundant  means  to  compass  it, 
Shall  turn  deliberate  aside 
To  try  and  live  as,  if  you  tried 
You  clearly  might,  yet  most  despise. 
One  friend  of  mine  wears  out  his  eyes, 
Slighting  the  stupid  joys  of  sense, 
In  patient  hope  that,  ten  years  hence, 
'  Somewhat  completer,'  he  may  say, 
'  My  list  of  coleoptera  ! ' 
While  just  the  other  who  most  laughs 


EASTER-DAT. 

At  him,  above  all  epitaphs 

Aspires  to  have  his  tomb  describe 

Himself  as  Sole  among  the  tribe 

Of  snuff-box-fanciers,  who  possessed 

A  Grignon  with  the  Regent's  crest. 

So  that,  subduing,  as  you  want, 

Whatever  stands  predominant 

Among  my  earthly  appetites 

For  tastes,  and  smells,  and  sounds,  and  sights, 

I  shall  be  doing  that  alone, 

To  gain  a  palm-branch  and  a  throne, 

Which  fifty  people  undertake 

To  do,  and  gladly,  for  the  sake 

Of  giving  a  Semitic  guess, 

Or  playing  pawns  at  blindfold  chess." 

VII. 

Good  !  and  the  next  thing  is,  —  look  round 
For  evidence  enough.     'T  is  found, 
No  doubt :  as  is  your  sort  of  mind, 
So  is  your  sort  of  search  —  you  '11  find 
What  you  desire,  and  that 's  to  be 
A  Christian.     What  says  history  ? 
How  comforting  a  point  it  were 
To  find  some  mummy-scrap  declare 
There  lived  a  Moses  !     Better  still, 
Prove  Jonah's  whale  translatable 
Into  some  quicksand  of  the  seas, 
Isle,  cavern,  rock,  or  what  you  please, 


EASTER-DAY.  381 

That  faith  might  clap  her  wings  and  crow 

From  such  an  eminence !     Or,  no  — 

The  human  heart  'a  best ;  you  prefer 

Making  that  prove  the  minister 

To  truth  ;  you  probe  its  wants  and  needs, 

And  hopes  and  fears,  then  try  what  creeds 

Meet  these  most  aptly,  —  resolute 

That  faith  plucks  such  substantial  fruit 

Wherever  these  two  correspond, 

She  little  needs  to  look  beyond, 

And  puzzle  out  who  Orpheus  was, 

Or  Dionysius  Zagrias. 

You  '11  find  sufficient,  as  I  say, 

To  satisfy  you  either  way ; 

You  wanted  to  believe  ;  your  pains 

Are  crowned  —  you  do :  and  what  remains  ? 

"  Renounce  the  world  ! "  —  Ah,  were  it  done 

By  merely  cutting  one  by  one 

Your  limbs  off,  with  your  wise  head  last, 

How  easy  were  it !  —  how  soon  past, 

If  once  in  the  believing  mood ! 

"  Such  is  man's  usual  gratitude, 

Such  thanks  to  God  do  we  return, 

For  not  exacting  that  we  spurn 

A  single  gift  of  life,  forego 

One  real  gain,  —  only  taste  them  so 

With  gravity  and  temperance, 

That  those  mild  virtues  may  enhance 

Such  pleasures,  rather  than  abstract  — 


382  EASTER-DAY. 

Last  spice  of  which,  will  be  the  fact 

Of  love  discerned  in  every  gift ; 

While,  when  the  scene  of  life  shall  shift, 

And  the  gay  heart  be  taught  to  ache, 

As  sorrows  and  privations  take 

The  place  of  joy,  —  the  thing  that  seems 

Mere  misery,  under  human  schemes, 

Becomes,  regarded  by  the  light 

Of  love,  as  very  near,  or  quite 

As  good  a  gift  as  joy  before. 

So  plain  is  it  that,  all  the  more 

God's  dispensation 's  merciful, 

More  pettishly  we  try  and  cull 

Briers,  thistles,  from  our  private  plot, 

To  mar  God's  ground  where  thorns  are  not ! " 

VIII. 

Do  you  say  this,  or  I  ?  —  Oh,  you ! 
Then,  what,  my  friend,  —  (thus  I  pursue 
Our  parley)  —  you  indeed  opine 
That  the  Eternal  and  Divine 
Did,  eighteen  centuries  ago, 
In  very  truth  .  .  .  Enough  !  you  know 
The  all-stupendous  tale,  —  that  Birth, 
That  Life,  that  Death  !     And  all,  the  earth 
Shuddered  at,  —  all,  the  heavens  grew  black 
Rather  than  see ;  all,  Nature's  rack 
And  throe  at  dissolution's  brink 
Attested,  —  all  took  place,  you  think, 


EASTER-DAT.  383 

Only  to  give  our  joys  a  zest, 

And  prove  our  sorrows  for  the  best  ? 

We  differ,  then  !     Were  I,  still  pale 

And  heartstruck  at  the  dreadful  tale, 

Waiting  to  hear  God's  voice  declare 

What  horror  followed  for  my  share, 

As  implicated  in  the  deed, 

Apart  from  other  sins,  —  concede 

That  if  He  blacked  out  in  a  blot 

My  brief  life's  pleasantness,  't  were  not 

So  very  disproportionate ! 

Or  there  might  be  another  fate  — 

I  certainly  could  understand 

(If  fancies  were  the  thing  in  hand) 

How  God  might  save,  at  that  Day's  price, 

The  impure  in  their  impurities, 

Give  formal  license  and  complete 

To  choose  the  fair  and  pick  the  sweet. 

But  there  be  certain  words,  broad,  plain, 

Uttered  again  and  yet  again, 

Hard  to  mistake,  or  overgloss  - — 

Announcing  this  world's  gain  for  loss, 

And  bidding  us  reject  the  same  : 

The  whole  world  lieth  (they  proclaim) 

In  wickedness,  —  come  out  of  it ! 

Turn  a  deaf  ear,  if  you  think  fit, 

But  I  who  thrill  through  every  nerve 

At  thought  of  what  deaf  ears  deserve,  — 

How  do  you  counsel  in  the  case  ? 


384  EASTER-DAY. 

IX. 

"  I  'd  take,  by  all  means,  in  your  place, 

The  safe  side,  since  it  so  appears : 

Deny  myself,  a  few  brief  years, 

The  natural  pleasure,  leave  the  fruit 

Or  cut  the  plant  up  by  the  root. 

Remember  what  a  martyr  said 

On  the  rude  tablet  overhead ! 

*  I  was  born  sickly,  poor  and  mean, 

A  slave :  no  misery  could  screen 

The  holders  of  the  pearl  of  price 

From  Ca3sar's  envy ;  therefore  twice 

I  fought  with  beasts,  and  three  times  saw 

My  children  suffer  by  his  law ; 

At  last  my  own  release  was  earned  : 

I  was  some  time  in  being  burned, 

But  at  the  close  a  Hand  came  through 

The  fire  above  my  head,  and  drew 

My  soul  to  Christ,  whom  now  I  see. 

Sergius,  a  brother,  writes  for  me 

This  testimony  on  the  wall  — 

For  me,  I  have  forgot  it  all.' 

You  say  right ;  this  were  not  so  hard  ! 

And  since  one  nowise  is  debarred 

From  this,  why  not  escape  some  sins 

By  such  a  method  ?  " 


EASTER-DAY.  385 

X. 

Then  begins 

To  the  old  point,  revulsion  new  — 
(For  't  is  just  this,  I  bring  you  to) 
If  after  all  we  should  mistake, 
And  so  renounce  life  for  the  sake 
Of  death  and  nothing  else  ?     You  hear 
Our  friends  we  jeered  at,  send  the  jeer 
Back  to  ourselves  with  good  effect  — 
"  There  were  my  beetles  to  collect ! " 
"  My  box  —  a  trifle,  I  confess, 
But  here  I  hold  it,  ne'ertheless  ! " 
Poor  idiots,  (let  us  pluck  up  heart 
And  answer)  we,  the  better  part 
Have  chosen,  though  't  were  only  hope,  — 
Nor  envy  moles  like  you  that  grope 
Amid  your  veritable  muck, 
More  than  the  grasshoppers  would  truck, 
For  yours,  their  passionate  life  away, 
That  spends  itself  in  leaps  all  day 
To  reach  the  sun,  you  want  the  eyes 
To  see,  as  they  the  wings  to  rise 
And  match  the  noble  hearts  of  them  ! 
Thus  the  contemner  we  contemn,  — 
And,  when  doubt  strikes  us,  thus  we  ward 
Its  stroke  off,  caught  upon  our  guard, 
—  Not  struck  enough  to  overturn 
Our  faith,  but  shake  it  —  make  us  learn 

17  T 


386  EASTER-DAY. 

What  I  began  with,  and,  I  wis, 

End,  having  proved,  —  how  hard  it  is 

To  be  a  Christian  ! 

XI. 

"  Proved,  or  not, 

Howe'er  you  wis,  small  thanks,  I  wot, 
You  get  of  mine,  for  taking  pains 
To  make  it  hard  to  me.     Who  gains 
By  that,  I  wonder  ?     Here  I  live 
In  trusting  ease  ;  and  here  you  drive 
At  causing  me  to  lose  what  most 
Yourself  would  mourn  for  had  you  lost ! 

XII. 

But,  do  you  see,  my  friend,  that  thus 
You  leave  St.  Paul  for  ^Eschylus  ? 
—  Who  made  his  Titan's  arch-device 
The  giving  men  Hind  hopes  to  spice 
The  meal  of  life  with,  else  devoured 
In  bitter  haste,  while  lo  !  death  loured 
Before  them  at  the  platter's  edge ! 
If  faith  should  be,  as  I  allege, 
Quite  other  than  a  condiment 
To  heighten  flavors  with,  or  meant 
(Like  that  brave  curry  of  his  Grace) 
To  take  at  need  the  victuals'  place  ? 
If,  having  dined,  you  would  digest 
Besides,  and  turning  to  your  rest 
Should  find  instead  . 


EASTER-DAY.  387 

XIII. 

Now,  you  shall  see 
And  judge  if  a  mere  foppery 
Pricks  on  my  speaking  !     I  resolve 
To  utter  .  .  yes,  it  shall  devolve 
On  you  to  hear  as  solemn,  strange 
And  dread  a  thing  as  in  the  range 
Of  facts,  —  or  fancies,  if  God  will  —  ' 
E'er  happened  to  our  kind  !     I  still 
Stand  in  the  cloud,  and  while  it  wraps 
My  face,  ought  not  to  speak,  perhaps ; 
Seeing  that  if  I  carry  through 
My  purpose,  if  my  words  in  you 
Find  a  live  actual  listener, 
My  story,  reason  must  aver 
False  after  all  —  the  happy  chance  ! 
While,  if  each  human  countenance 
I  meet  in  London  day  by  day, 
Be  what  I  fear,  —  my  warnings  fray 
No  one,  and  no  one  they  convert, 
And  no  one  helps  me  to  assert 
How  hard  it  is  to  really  be 
A  Christian,  and  in  vacancy 
I  pour  this  story  ! 

xiv.  — 

I  commence 
By  trying  to  inform  you,  whence 


388  EASTER-DAY. 

It  comes  that  every  Easter-night 

As  now,  I  sit  up,  watch,  till  light, 

Upon  those  chimney-stacks  and  roofs, 

Give,  through  my  window-pane,  gray  proofs 

That  Easter-day  is  breaking  slow. 

On  such  a  night,  three  years  ago, 

It  chanced  that  I  had  cause  to  cross 

The  common,  where  the  chapel  was, 

Our  friend  spoke  of,  the  other  day  — 

You  Ve  not  forgotten,  I  dare  say. 

I  fell  to  musing  of  the  time 

So  close,  the  blessed  matin-prime 

All  hearts  leap  up  at,  in  some  guise  — 

One  could  not  well  do  otherwise. 

Insensibly  my  thoughts  were  bent 

Toward  the  main  point ;  I  overwent 

Much  the  same  ground  of  reasoning 

As  you  and  I  just  now.     One  thing 

Remained,  however  —  one  that  tasked 

My  soul  to  answer ;  and  I  asked, 

Fairly  and  frankly,  what  might  be 

That  History,  that  Faith,  to  me 

—  Me  there  —  not  me  in  some  domain 
Built  up  and  peopled  by  my  brain, 
Weighing  its  merits  as  one  weighs 
Mere  theories  for  blame  or  praise, 

—  The  kingcraft  of  the  Lucumons, 

Or  Fourier's  scheme,  its  pros  and  cons,  — 
But  my  faith  there,  or  none  at  all. 


EASTER-DAY. 

"  How  were  my  case,  now,  did  I  fall 
Dead  here,  this  minute  —  should  I  lie 
Faithful  or  faithless  ?  "  —  Note  that  I 
Inclined  thus  ever  !  —  little  prone 
For  instance,  when  I  lay  alone 
In  childhood,  to  go  calm  to  sleep 
And  leave  a  closet  where  might  keep 
His  watch  perdue  some  murderer 
Waiting  till  twelve  o'clock  to  stir, 
As  good,  authentic  legends  tell : 
"  He  might :  but  how  improbable  ! 
How  little  likely  to  deserve 
The  pains  and  trial  to  the  nerve 
Of  thrusting  head  into  the  dark  ! "  — 
Urged  my  old  nurse,  and  bade  me  mark 
Beside,  that,  should  the  dreadful  scout 
Really  lie  hid  there,  and  leap  out 
At  first  turn  of  the  rusty  key, 
Mine  were  small  gain  that  she  could  see, 
Killed  not  in  bed  but  on  the  floor, 
And  losing  one  night's  sleep  the  more. 
I  tell  you,  I  would  always  burst 
The  door  ope,  know  my  fate  at  first. 
This  time,  indeed,  the  closet  penned 
No  such  assassin  :  but  a  friend 
Rather,  peeped  out  to  guard  me,  fit 
For  counsel,  Common  Sense,  to  wit, 
Who  said  a  good  deal  that  might  pass,  — 
Heartening,  impartial  too,  it  was, 


390  EASTER-DAY. 

Judge  else  :  "  For,  soberly  now,  —  who 

Should  be  a  Christian  if  not  you  ?  " 

(Hear  how  he  smoothed  me  down.)     "  One  takes 

A  whole  life,  sees  what  course  it  makes 

Mainly,  and  not  by  fits  and  starts  — 

In  spite  of  stoppage  which  imparts 

Fresh  value  to  the  general  speed. 

A  life,  with  none,  would  fly  indeed  : 

Your  progressing  is  slower  —  right ! 

We  deal  with  progress  and  not  flight. 

Through  baffling  senses  passionate, 

Fancies  as  restless,  —  with  a  freight 

Of  knowledge  cumbersome  enough 

To  sink  your  ship  when  waves  grow  rough, 

Though  meant  for  ballast  in  the  hold,  — 

I  find,  'mid  dangers  manifold, 

The  good  bark  answers  to  the  helm 

Where  faith  sits,  easier  to  o'erwhelm 

Than  some  stout  peasant's  heavenly  guide, 

Whose  hard  head  could  not,  if  it  tried, 

Conceive  a  doubt,  nor  understand 

How  senses  hornier  than  his  hand 

Should  'tice  the  Christian  off  his  guard. 

More  happy  !     But  shall  we  award 

Less  honor  to  the  hull  which,  dogged 

By  storms,  a  mere  wreck,  waterlogged, 

Masts  by  the  board,  her  bulwarks  gone, 

And  stanchions  going,  yet  bears  on,  — 

Than  to  mere  life-boats,  built  to  save, 


EASTER-DAY.  391 

And  triumph  o'er  the  breaking  wave  ? 

Make  perfect  your  good  ship  as  these, 

And  what  were  her  performances ! " 

I  added  —  "  Would  the  ship  reach  home ! 

I  wish  indeed  '  God's  kingdom  come  -— ' 

The  day  when  I  shall  see  appear 

His  bidding,  as  my  duty,  clear 

From  doubt !    And  it  shall  dawn,  that  day, 

Some  future  season  ;   Easter  may 

Prove,  not  impossibly,  the  time  — 

Yes,  that  were  striking  —  fates  would  chime 

So  aptly !    Easter-morn,  to  bring 

The  Judgment !  —  deeper  in  the  Spring 

Than  now,  however,  when  there 's  snow 

Capping  the  hills  ;  for  earth  must  show 

All  signs  of  meaning  to  pursue 

Her  tasks  as  she  was  wont  to  do 

—  The  skylark,  taken  by  surprise 
As  we  ourselves,  shall  recognize 
Sudden  the  end.     For  suddenly 

It  comes  ;  the  dreadfulness  must  be 
In  that ;  all  warrants  the  belief  — 
1  At  night  it  cometh  like  a  thief.' 
I  fancy  why  the  trumpet  blows  ; 

—  Plainly,  to  wake  one.     From  repose 
We  shall  start  up,  at  last  awake 
From  life,  that  insane  dream  we  take 
For  waking  now,  because  it  seems. 

And  as,  when  now  we  wake  from  dreams, 


392  EASTER-DAT. 

We  laugh,  while  we  recall  them,  '  Fool, 

To  let  the  chance  slip,  linger  cool 

When  such  adventure  offered  !     Just 

A  bridge  to  cross,  a  dwarf  to  thrust 

Aside,  a  wicked  mage  to  stab — • 

And,  lo  ye,  I  had  kissed  Queen  Mab ! '  — 

So  shall  we  marvel  why  we  grudged 

Our  labor  here,  and  idly  judged 

Of  Heaven,  we  might  have  gained,  but  lose ! 

Lose  ?     Talk  of  loss,  and  I  refuse 

To  plead  at  all !    You  speak  no  worse 

Nor  better  than  my  ancient  nurse 

When  she  would  tell  me  in  my  youth 

I  well  deserved  that  shapes  uncouth 

Frighted  and  teased  me  in  my  sleep  — 

Why  could  I  not  in  memory  keep 

Her  precept  for  the  evil's  cure  ? 

4  Pinch  your  own  arm,  boy,  and  be  sure 

You '11  wake  forthwith!'" 

XV. 

And  as  I  said 

This  nonsense,  throwing  back  my  head 
With  light  complacent  laugh,  I  found 
Suddenly  all  the  midnight  round 
One  fire.     The  dome  of  heaven  had  stood 
As  made  up  of  a  multitude 
Of  handbreadth  cloudlets,  one  vast  rack 
Of  ripples  infinite  and  black, 


EASTER-DAY.  393 

From  sky  to  sky.     Sudden  there  went, 
Like  horror  and  astonishment, 
A  fierce  vindictive  scribble  of  red 
Quick  flame  across,  as  if  one  said 
(The  angry  scribe  of  Judgment)  "  There  — • 
Burn  it ! "     And  straight  I  was  aware 
That  the  whole  ribwork  round,  minute 
Cloud  touching  cloud  beyond  compute, 
Was  tinted,  each  with  its  own  spot 
Of  burning  at  the  core,  till  clot 
Jammed  against  clot,  and  spilt  its  fire 
Over  all  heaven,  which  'gan  suspire 
As  fanned  to  measure  equable,  — 
As  when  great  conflagrations  kill 
Night  overhead,  and  rise  and  sink, 
Reflected.     Now  the  fire  would  shrink 
And  wither  off  the  blasted  face 
Of  heaven,  and  I  distinct  might  trace 
The  sharp  black  ridgy  outlines  left 
Unburned  like  network  —  then,  each  cleft 
The  fire  had  been  sucked  back  into, 
Regorged,  and  out  it  surging  flew 
Furiously,  and  night  writhed  inflamed, 
Till,  tolerating  to  be  tamed 
No  longer,  certain  rays  world-wide 
Shot  downwardly.     On  every  side 
Caught  past  escape,  the  earth  was  lit ; 
As  if  a  dragon's  nostril  split 
And  all  his  famished  ire  o'erflowed ; 
17* 


394  EASTER-DAY. 

Then,  as  he  winced  at  his  lord's  goad, 
Back  he  inhaled  :  whereat  I  found 
The  clouds  into  vast  pillars  bound, 
Based  on  the  corners  of  the  earth, 
Propping  the  skies  at  top  :  a  dearth 
Of  fire  i'  the  violet  intervals, 
Leaving  exposed  the  utmost  walls 
Of  time,  about  to  tumble  in 
And  end  the  world. 

XVI. 

I  felt  begin 

The  Judgment-Day  :  to  retrocede 
Was  too  late  now.     "  In  very  deed," 
(I  uttered  to  myself)  "  that  Day  ! " 
The  intuition  burned  away 
All  darkness  from  my  spirit  too  : 
There,  stood  I,  found  and  fixed,  I  knew, 
Choosing  the  world.     The  choice  was  made  ; 
And  naked  and  disguiseless  stayed, 
And  unevadable,  the  fact. 
My  brain  held  ne'ertheless  compact 
Its  senses,  nor  my  heart  declined 
Its  office  ;  rather,  both  combined 
To  help  me  in  this  juncture.     I 
Lost  not  a  second,  —  agony 
Gave  boldness  :  since  my  life  had  end 
And  my  choice  with  it  —  best  defend, 
Applaud  both  !     I  resolved  to  say, 


EASTER-DAT.  395 

»•• 

"  So  was  I  framed  by  Thee,  such  way 

I  put  to  use  Thy  senses  here  ! 

It  was  so  beautiful,  so  near, 

Thy  world,  —  what  could  I  then  but  choose 

My  part  there  ?    Nor  did  I  refuse 

To  look  above  the  transient  boon 

Of  time ;  but  it  was  hard  so  soon 

As  in  a  short  life,  to  give  up 

Such  beauty :  I  could  put  the  cup 

Undrained  of  half  its  fulness,  by  ; 

But,  to  renounce  it  utterly, 

—  That  was  too  hard !     Nor  did  the  cry 

Which  bade  renounce  it,  touch  my  brain 

Authentically  deep  and  plain 

Enough  to  make  my  lips  let  go. 

But  Thou,  who  knowest  all,  dost  know 

"Whether  I  was  not,  life's  brief  while, 

Endeavoring  to  reconcile 

Those  lips  (too  tardily,  alas !) 

To  letting  the  dear  remnant  pass, 

One  day,  —  some  drops  of  earthly  good 

Untasted  !     Is  it  for  this  mood, 

That  Thou,  whose  earth  delights  so  well, 

Hast  made  its  complement  a  hell  ?  " 

XVII. 

A  final  belch  of  fire  like  blood, 
Overbroke  all  heaven  in  one  flood 
Of  doom.     Then  fire  was  sky,  and  sky 


396  EASTER-DAT. 

Fire,  and  both,  one  brief  ecstasy, 
Then  ashes.     But  I  heard  no  noise 
("Whatever  was)  because  a  Voice 
Beside  me  spoke  thus,  "  Life  is  done, 
Time  ends,  Eternity 's  begun, 
And  thou  art  judged  for  evermore." 

xvin. 

I  looked  up  ;  all  seemed  as  before ; 

Of  that  cloudrTophet  overhead, 

No  trace  was  left :  I  saw  instead 

The  common  round  me,  and  the  sky 

Above,  stretched  drear  and  emptily 

Of  life.     'T  was  the  last  watch  of  night 

Except  what  brings  the  morning  quite  ; 

"When  the  armed  angel,  conscience-clear, 

His  task  nigh  done,  leans  o'er  his  spear 

And  gazes  on  the  earth  he  guards, 

Safe  one  night  more  through  all  its  wards, 

Till  God  relieve  him  at  his  post. 

"  A  dream  —  a  waking  dream  at  most !  " 

(I  spoke  out  quick,  that  I  might  shake 

The  horrid  nightmare  off,  and  wake.) 

"  The  world  gone,  yet  the  world  is  here  ? 

Are  not  all  things  as  they  appear  ? 

Is  Judgment  past  for  me  alone  ? 

—  And  where  had  place  the  great  white  throne  ? 

The  rising  of  the  quick  and  dead  ? 

Where  stood  they,  small  and  great  ?     Who  read 


EASTER-DAT.  397 

The  sentence  from  the  opened  book  ?  " 

So,  by  degrees,  the  blood  forsook 

My  heart,  and  let  it  beat  afresh  ; 

I  knew  I  should  break  through  the  mesh 

Of  horror,  and  breathe  presently : 

When,  lo,  again,  the  Voice  by  me ! 

XIX. 

I  saw  .  .  .  Oh,  brother,  'mid  far  sands 

The  palm-tree-cinctured  city  stands, 

Bright-white  beneath,  as  heaven,  bright-blue, 

Leans  o'er  it,  while  the  years  pursue 

Their  course,  unable  to  abate 

Its  paradisal  laugh  at  fate  ! 

One  morn,  —  the  Arab  staggers  blind 

O'er  a  new  tract  of  death,  calcined 

To  ashes,  silence,  nothingness,  — 

And  strives,  with  dizzy  wits,  to  guess 

Whence  fell  the  blow.     What  if,  'twixt  skies 

And  prostrate  earth,  he  should  surprise 

The  imaged  vapor,  head  to  foot, 

Surveying,  motionless  and  mute, 

Its  work,  ere,  in  a  whirlwind  rapt, 

It  vanish  up  again  ?  —  So  hapt 

My  chance.     HE  stood  there.     Like  the  smoke 

Pillared  o'er  Sodom,  when  day  broke,  — 

I  saw  Him.     One  magnific  pall 

Mantled  in  massive  fold  and  fall 

His  dread,  and  coiled  in  snaky  swathes 


398  EASTER-DAY. 

About  His  feet :  night's  black,  that  bathes 

All  else,  broke,  grizzled  with  despair, 

Against  the  soul  of  blackness  there. 

A  gesture  told  the  mood  within  — 

That  wrapped  right  hand  which  based  the  chin, 

That  intense  meditation  fixed 

On  His  procedure,  —  pity  mixed 

With  the  fulfilment  of  decree. 

Motionless,  thus,  He  spoke  to  me, 

Who  fell  before  His  feet,  a  mass, 

No  man  now. 

xx. 

"  All  is  come  to  pass. 
Such  shows  are  over  for  each  soul 
They  had  respect  to.     In  the  roll 
Of  Judgment  which  convinced  mankind 
Of  sin,  stood  many,  bold  and  blind, 
Terror  must  burn  the  truth  into  : 
Their  fate  for  them !  —  thou  hadst  to  do 
With  absolute  omnipotence, 
Able  its  judgments  to  dispense 
To  the  whole  race,  as  every  one 
Were  its  sole  object.     Judgment  done, 
God  is,  thou  art,  —  the  rest  is  hurled 
To  nothingness  for  thee.     This  world, 
This  finite  life,  thou  hast  preferred, 
In  disbelief  of  God's  own  word, 
To  Heaven  and  to  Infinity. 


EASTER-DAT.  399 

Here  the  probation  was  for  thee, 

To  show  thy  soul  the  earthly  mixed 

With  heavenly,  it  must  choose  betwixt. 

The  earthly  joys  lay  palpable,  — 

A  taint,  in  each,  distinct  as  well ; 

The  heavenly  flitted,  faint  and  rare, 

Above  them,  but  as  truly  were 

Taintless,  so,  in  their  nature,  best. 

Thy  choice  was  earth :  thou  didst  attest 

'T  was  fitter  spirit  should  subserve 

The  flesh,  than  flesh  refine  to  nerve 

Beneath  the  spirit's  play.     Advance 

No  claim  to  their  inheritance 

Who  chose  the  spirit's  fugitive 

Brief  gleams,  and  yearned,  '  This  were  to  live 

Indeed,  if  rays,  completely  pure 

From  flesh  that  dulls  them,  could  endure,  — 

Not  shoot  in  meteor-light  athwart 

Our  earth,  to  show  how  cold  and  swart 

It  lies  beneath  their  fire,  but  stand 

As  stars  do,  destined  to  expand, 

Prove  veritable  worlds,  our  home  ! ' 

Thou  saidst,  — '  Let  spirit  star  the  dome 

Of  sky,  that  flesh  may  miss  no  peak, 

No  nook  of  earth,  —  I  shall  not  seek 

Its  service  further  ! '     Thou  art  shut 

Out  of  the  heaven  of  spirit ;  glut 

Thy  sense  upon  the  world  :  't  is  thine 

Forever  —  take  it ! " 


400  EASTER-DAT. 

XXI. 

"  How  ?     Is  mine, 

The  world  ?  "     (I  cried,  while  my  soul  broke 
Out  in  a  transport,)  "  Hast  thou  spoke 
Plainly  in  that  ?     Earth's  exquisite 
Treasures  of  wonder  and  delight, 
For  me ! " 

XXII. 

The  austere  Voice  returned,  — 
"  So  soon  made  happy  ?     Hadst  thou  learned 
What  God  accounteth  happiness, 
Thou  wouldst  not  find  it  hard  to  guess 
What  hell  may  be  His  punishment 
For  those  who  doubt  if  God  invent 
Better  than  they.     Let  such  men  rest 
Content  with  what  they  judged  the  best. 
Let  the  unjust  usurp  at  will : 
The  filthy  shall  be  filthy  still : 
Miser,  there  waits  the  gold  for  thee  !    . 
Hater,  indulge  thine  enmity  ! 
And  thou,  whose  heaven  self-ordained 
Was,  to  enjoy  earth  unrestrained, 
Do  it !     Take  all  the  ancient  show ! 
The  woods  shall  wave,  the  rivers  flow, 
And  men  apparently  pursue 
Their  works,  as  they  were  wont  to  do, 
While  living  in  probation  yet. 


EASTER-DAT.  401 

I  promise  not  thou  shalt  forget 

The  Past,  now  gone  to  its  account ; 

But  leave  thee  with  the  old  amount 

Of  faculties,  nor  less  nor  more, 

Unvisited,  as  heretofore, 

By  God's  free  spirit,  that  makes  an  end. 

So,  once  more,  take  thy  world !  expend 

Eternity  upon  its  shows,  — 

Flung  thee  as  freely  as  one  rose 

Out  of  a  summer's  opulence, 

Over  the  Eden-barrier  whence 

Thou  art  excluded.     Knock  in  vain !  " 

XXIII. 

I  sat  up.     All  was  still  again. 

I  breathed  free  :  to  my  heart,  back  fled 

The  warmth.     "  But,  all  the  world  ! "  (I  said) 

I  stooped  and  picked  a  leaf  of  fern, 

And  recollected  I  might  learn 

From  books,  how  many  myriad  sorts 

Of  fern  exist,  to  trust  reports, 

Each  as  distinct  and  beautiful 

As  this,  the  very  first  I  cull. 

Think,  from  the  first  leaf  to  the  last ! 

Conceive,  then,  earth's  resources  !     Vast 

Exhaustless  beauty,  endless  change 

Of  wonder  !  and  this  foot  shall  range 

Alps,  Andes,  —  and  this  eye  devour 

The  bee-bird  and  the  aloe-flower  ? 


402  EASTER-DAY. 

XXIV. 

Then  the  Voice,  "  Welcome  so  to  rate 

The  arras-folds  that  variegate 

The  earth,  God's  antechamber,  well ! 

The  wise,  who  waited  there,  could  tell 

By  these,  what  royalties  in  store 

Lay  one  step  past  the  entrance-door. 

For  whom,  was  reckoned,  not  too  much, 

This  life's  munificence  ?     For  such 

As  thou,  —  a  race,  whereof  scarce  one 

Was  able,  in  a  million, 

To  feel  that  any  marvel  lay 

In  objects  round  his  feet  all  day ; 

Scarce  one,  in  many  millions  more, 

Willing,  if  able,  to  explore 

The  secreter,  minuter  charm ! 

—  Brave  souls,  a  fern-leaf  could  disarm 

Of  power  to  cope  with  God's  intent,  — 

Or  scared  if  the  south  firmament 

With  north-fire  did  its  wings  refledge  ! 

All  partial  beauty  was  a  pledge 

Of  beauty  in  its  plenitude  : 

But  since  the  pledge  sufficed  thy  mood, 

Eetain  it !  plenitude  be  theirs 

Who  looked  above ! " 

XXV. 

Though  sharp  despairs 
Shot  through  me,  I  held  up,  bore  on. 


EASTER-DAT.  403 

"  What  matter  though  my  trust  were  gone 
From  natural  things  ?     Henceforth  my  part 
Be  less  with  Nature  than  with  Art ! 
For  Art  supplants,  gives  mainly  worth 
To  Nature ;  't  is  Man  stamps  the  earth  — 
And  I  will  seek  his  impress,  seek 
The  statuary  of  the  Greek, 
Italy's  painting  —  there  my  choice 
Shall  fix ! " 

XXVI. 

"  Obtain  it ! "  said  the  Voice. 
"  —  The  one  form  with  its  single  act, 
"Which  sculptors  labored  to  abstract, 
The  one  face,  painters  tried  to  draw, 
With  its  one  look,  from  throngs  they  saw. 
And  that  perfection  in  their  soul, 
These  only  hinted  at  ?     The  whole, 
They  were  but  parts  of?     What  each  laid 
His  claim  to  glory  on  ?  —  afraid 
His  fellow-men  should  give  him  rank 
By  the  poor  tentatives  he  shrank 
Smitten  at  heart  from,  all  the  more, 
That  gazers  pressed  in  to  adore  ! 
*  Shall  I  be  judged  by  only  these  ? ' 
If  such  his  soul's  capacities, 
Even  while  he  trod  the  earth,  —  think,  now 
What  pomp  in  Buonarroti's  brow, 
With  its  new  palace-brain  where  dwells 


404  EASTER-DAT. 

Superb  the  soul,  unvexed  by  cells 

That  crumbled  with  the  transient  clay ! 

What  visions  will  his  right  hand's  sway 

Still  turn  to  form,  as  still  they  burst 

Upon  him  ?     How  will  he  quench  thirst, 

Titanically  infantine, 

Laid  at  the  breast  of  the  Divine  ? 

Does  it  confound  thee,  —  this  first  page 

Emblazoning  man's  heritage  ?  — 

Can  this  alone  absorb  thy  sight, 

As  pages  were  not  infinite,  — 

Like  the  omnipotence  which  tasks 

Itself,  to  furnish  all  that  asks 

The  soul  it  means  to  satiate  ? 

What  was  the  world,  the  starry  state 

Of  the  broad  skies,  —  what,  all  displays 

Of  power  and  beauty  intermixed, 

Which  now  thy  soul  is  chained  betwixt,  — 

What  else  than  needful  furniture 

For  life's  first  stage  ?     God's  work,  be  sure, 

No  more  spreads  wasted,  than  falls  scant : 

He  filled,  did  not  exceed,  Man's  want 

Of  beauty  in  this  life.     But  through 

Life  pierce,  —  and  what  has  earth  to  do, 

Its  utmost  beauty's  appanage, 

With  the  requirement  of  next  stage  ? 

Did  God  pronounce  earth  '  very  good  '  ? 

Needs  must  it  be,  while  understood 

For  man's  preparatory  state ; 


EASTER-DAY.  405 

Nothing  to  heighten  nor  abate  : 

Transfer  the  same  completeness  here, 

To  serve  a  new  state's  use,  —  and  drear 

Deficiency  gapes  every  side  ! 

The  good,  tried  once,  were  bad,  retried. 

See  the  enwrapping  rocky  niche, 

Sufficient  for  the  sleep,  in  which 

The  lizard  breathes  for  ages  safe : 

Split  the  mould  —  and  as  this  would  chafe 

The  creature's  new  world-widened  sense, 

One  minute  after  day  dispense 

The  thousand  sounds  and  sights  that  broke 

In,  on  him,  at  the  chisel's  stroke,  — 

So,  in  God's  eye,  the  earth's  first  stuff 

Was,  neither  more  nor  less,  enough 

To  house  man's  soul,  man's  need  fulfil. 

Man  reckoned  it  immeasurable  ? 

So  thinks  the  lizard  of  his  vault ! 

Could  God  be  taken  in  default, 

Short  of  contrivances,  by  you,  — 

Or  reached,  ere  ready  to  pursue 

His  progress  through  eternity  ? 

That  chambered  rock,  the  lizard's  world, 

Your  easy  mallet's  blow  has  hurled 

To  nothingness  forever ;  so, 

Has  God  abolished  at  a  blow 

Tliis  world,  wherein  his  saints  were  pent,  — 

Who,  though  found  grateful  and  content, 

With  the  provision  there,  as  thou, 


406  EASTER-DAT. 

Yet  knew  He  would  not  disallow 

Their  spirit's  hunger,  felt  as  well,  — 

Unsated,  —  not  unsatable, 

As  Paradise  gives  proof.     Deride 

Their  choice  now,  thou  who  sit'st  outside ! ' 

XXVII. 

I  cried  in  anguish,  "  Mind,  the  mind, 

So  miserably  cast  behind, 

To  gain  what  had  been  wisely  lost ! 

O,  let  me  strive  to  make  the  most 

Of  the  poor  stinted  soul,  I  nipped 

Of  budding  wings,  else  now  equipt 

For  voyage  from  summer  isle  to  isle  ! 

And  though  she  needs  must  reconcile 

Ambition  to  the  life  on  ground, 

Still,  I  can  profit  by  late  found 

But  precious  knowledge.     Mind  is  best  — 

I  will  seize  mind,  forego  the  rest, 

And  try  how  far  my  tethered  strength 

May  crawl  in  this  poor  breadth  and  length. 

Let  me,  since  I  can  fly  no  more, 

At  least  spin  dervish-like  about 

(Till  giddy  rapture  almost  doubt 

I  fly)  through  circling  sciences, 

Philosophies  and  histories ! 

Should  the  whirl  slacken  there,  then  verse, 

Fining  to  music,  shall  asperse 

Fresh  and  fresh  fire-dew,  till  I  strain 


EASTER-DAY.  407 

Intoxicate,  half-break  my  chain  ! 
Not  joyless,  though  more  favored  feet 
Stand  calm,  where  I  want  wings  to  beat 
The  floor.     At  least  earth's  bond  is  broke  ! " 

XXVIII. 

Then,  (sickening  even  while  I  spoke) 

"  Let  me  alone  !     No  answer,  pray, 

To  this  !     I  know  what  Thou  wilt  say  ! 

All  still  is  earth's,  —  to  Know,  as  much 

As  Feel  its  truths,  which  if  we  touch 

With  sense,  or  apprehend  in  soul, 

What  matter  ?     I  have  reached  the  goal  — 

'  Whereto  does  Knowledge  serve  ! '  will  burn 

My  eyes,  too  sure,  at  every  turn  ! 

I  cannot  look  back  now,  nor  stake 

Bliss  on  the  race,  for  running's  sake. 

The  goal 's  a  ruin  like  the  rest !  "  — 

—  "  And  so  much  worse  thy  latter  quest, 

(Added  the  Voice)  "  that  even  on  earth  — 

Whenever,  in  man's  soul,  had  birth 

Those  intuitions,  grasps  of  guess, 

That  pull  the  more  into  the  less, 

Making  the  finite  comprehend 

Infinity,  —  the  bard  would  spend 

Such  praise  alone,  upon  his  craft, 

As,  when  wind-lyres  obey  the  waft, 

Goes  to  the  craftsman  who  arranged 

The  seven  strings,  changed  them  and  rechanged  — 


408  EASTER-DAT. 

Knowing  it  was  the  South  that  harped. 

He  felt  his  song,  in  singing,  warped ; 

Distinguished  his  and  God's  part :  whence 

A  world  of  spirit  as  of  sense 

Was  plain  to  him,  yet  not  too  plain, 

Which  he  could  traverse,  not  remain 

A  guest  in :  —  else  were  permanent 

Heaven  on  earth,  which  its  gleams  were  meant 

To  sting  with  hunger  for  full  light,  — 

Made  visible  in  verse,  despite 

The  veiling  weakness,  —  truth  by  means 

Of  fable,  showing  while  it  screens,  — 

Since  highest  truth,  man  e'er  supplied, 

Was  ever  fable  on  outside. 

Such  gleams  made  bright  the  earth  an  age  ; 

Now,  the  whole  sun  's  his  heritage  I 

Take  up  thy  world,  it  is  allowed, 

Thou  who  hast  entered  in  the  cloud  !  " 

XXIX. 

Then  I  —  "  Behold,  my  spirit  bleeds, 

Catches  no  more  at  broken  reeds,  — 

But  lilies  flower  those  reeds  above  : 

I  let  the  world  go,  and  take  love  ! 

Love  survives  in  me,  albeit  those 

I  love  be  henceforth  masks  and  shows, 

Not  loving  men  and  women  :  still 

I  mind  how  love  repaired  all  ill, 

Cured  wrong,  soothed  grief,  made  earth  amends 


EASTER-DAY.  409 

"With  parents,  brothers,  children,  friends  ! 
Some  semblance  of  a  woman  yet 
With  eyes  to  help  me  to  forget. 
Shall  live  with  me ;  and  I  will  match 
Departed  love  with  love,  attach 
Its  fragments  to  my  whole,  nor  scorn 
The  poorest  of  the  grains  of  corn 
I  save  from  shipwreck  on  this  isle, 
Trusting  its  barrenness  may  smile 
With  happy  foodful  green  one  day, 
More  precious  for  the  pains.     I  pray 
For  love,  then,  only  ! " 

XXX. 

At  the  word, 

The  Form,  I  looked  to  have  been  stirred 
With  pity  and  approval,  rose 
O'er  me,  as  when  the  headsman  throws 
Axe  over  shoulder  to  make  end  — 
I  fell  prone,  letting  Him  expend 
His  wrath,  while,  thus,  the  inflicting  Voice 
Smote  me.     "  Is  this  thy  final  choice  ? 
Love  is  the  best  ?     'T  is  somewhat  late  ! 
And  all  thou  dost  enumerate 
Of  power  and  beauty  in  the  world, 
The  mightiness  of  love  was  curled 
Inextricably  round  about. 
Love  lay  within  it  and  without, 
To  clasp  thee,  —  but  in  vain  !     Thy  soul 
18 


410  EASTER- DAY. 

Still  shrunk  from  Him  who  made  the  whole, 

Still  set  deliberate  aside 

His  love  !  —  Now  take  love  !  -  Well  betide 

Thy  tardy  conscience  !     Haste  to  take 

The  show  of  love  for  the  name's  sake, 

Remembering  every  moment  Who 

Beside  creating  thee  unto 

These  ends,  and  these  for  thee,  was  said 

To  undergo  death  in  thy  stead 

In  flesh  like  thine  :  so  ran  the  tale. 

What  doubt  in  thee  could  countervail 

Belief  in  it  ?     Upon  the  ground 

*  That  in  the  story  had  been  found 

Too  much  love  !     How  could  God  love  so  ? ' 

He  who  in  all  His  works  below 

Adapted  to  the  needs  of  man, 

Made  love  the  basis  of  the  plan,  — 

Did  love,  as  was  demonstrated  : 

While  man,  who  was  so  fit  instead 

To  hate,  as  every  day  gave  proof,  — 

Man  thought  man,  for  his  kind's  behoof, 

Both  could  and  did  invent  that  scheme 

Of  perfect  love  —  't  would  well  beseem 

Cain's  nature  thou  wast  wont  to  praise, 

Not  tally  with  God's  usual  ways  ! " 

XXXI. 

And  I  cowered  deprecatingly  — 

"  Thou  Love  of  God !     Or  let  me  die, 


EASTER-DAY.  411 

Or  grant  what  shall  seem  Heaven  almost ! 

Let  me  not  know  that  all  is  lost, 

Though  lost  it  be  —  leave  me  not  tied 

To  this  despair,  this  corpse-like  bride  ! 

Let  that  old  life  seem  mine  —  no  more  — 

With  limitation  as  before, 

With  darkness,  hunger,  toil,  distress  : 

Be  all  the  earth  a  wilderness  ! 

Only  let  me  go  on,  go  on, 

Still  hoping  ever  and  anon 

To  reach  one  eve  the  Better  Land  !  " 

XXXII. 

Then  did  the  Form  expand,  expand  — 
I  knew  Him  through  the  dread  disguise, 
As  the  whole  God  within  his  eyes 
Embraced  me. 

XXXIII. 

When  I  lived  again, 
The  day  was  breaking,  —  the  gray  plain 
I  rose  from,  silvered  thick  with  dew. 
Was  this  a  vision  ?     False  or  true  ? 
Since  then,  three  varied  years  are  spent, 
And  commonly  my  mind  is  bent 
To  think  it  was  a  dream  —  be  sure 
A  mere  dream  and  distemperature  — 
The  last  day's  watching :  then  the  night,  — 
The  shock  of  that  strange  Northern  Light 


412  EASTER-DAY. 

Set  my  head  swimming,  bred  in  me 

A  dream.     And  so  I  live,  you  see, ' 

Go  through  the  world,  try,  prove,  reject, 

Prefer,  still  struggling  to  effect 

My  warfare  ;  happy  that  I  can 

Be  crossed  and  thwarted  as  a  man, 

Not  left  in  God's  contempt  apart, 

With  ghastly  smooth  life,  dead  at  heart, 

Tame  in  earth's  paddock  as  her  prize. 

Thank  God,  she  still  each  method  tries 

To  catch  me,  who  may  yet  escape, 

She  knows,  the  fiend  in  angel's  shape ! 

Thank  God,  no  paradise  stands  barred 

To  entry,  and  I  find  it  hard 

To  be  a  Christian,  as  I  said ! 

Still  every  now  and  then  my  head 

Raised  glad,  sinks  mournful  —  all  grows  drear 

Spite  of  the  sunshine,  while  I  fear 

And  think,  "  How  dreadful  to  be  grudged 

No  ease  henceforth,  as  one  that 's  judged, 

Condemned  to  earth  forever,  shut 

From  Heaven ! " 

But  Easter-Day  breaks !     But 
Christ  rises !     Mercy  every  way 
Is  infinite,  —  and  who  can  say  ? 


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